Captured by the Code of Fear
by Amaterasu Kinesi
Summary: They all knew who I was, I was certain. Though I was only eight at the time, I had come to know heartache and pain prematurely. But no pain could have compared to the pain I now felt from the aftershock. I was frozen in a fragile world of make believe and empty lies, afraid to cry.
1. Nice Naïve & Beautiful

_**Disclaime**__r:_

_No copyright infringement intended. _

_The Twilight Saga and all characters involved within are the property of Stephenie Meyer. _

However, the plot is entirely my own.

_**-This applies to the rest of the story.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Captured by the Code of Fear<strong>

**Stage I:** _Nice Na__ï__ve & Beautiful _

_**Ms. Swan's POV**_

_Washington_

_1871_

It was a pleasant afternoon with a lazy breeze engaging every tree into a tantalizing sway that billowed placidly throughout town, distributing the aromatic perfume of the newly blooming blooms of spring in its playful wake. In other words, it was a perfectly forthcoming afternoon for idle mingling in the company of my most preeminent chap.

Glad that not many people had decided to stroll about town just yet, I could not help but be thankful for the small respite this day had to offer thus far, and for as long as it lasted. Today found Emmett and I seated on the washed-out roots of our favorite, old oak tree, enjoying its cooling shadow. Under the warming rays of the sun and with the wind setting the rhythm and rhyme, we placated away vivaciously.

Secluded by the tree roots from gossipers prying eyes and with my skirts carelessly tangled at my ankles, I rested my head trustingly on Emmett's lap as he ran his careful fingers through the silkiness of my auburn black tresses. In the interim our banter varied from aimless to nonsensical topic with playful ease that only we knew, making light of the conversation and making it enjoyable, whilst taking pleasure being in the welcome company of the other once the conversation finally died down into a comfortable hush.

Emmett and I have been the best of friends for nearly ten years now and were, at present time, moreover, celebrating such feat and the events that lead to our resilient affiliation. Despite Emmett being three years my senior, it seemed that age played no derogatory part in our playful as air extensive friendship. In any case, it just made him that much more protective where matters concerned me and anyone that tried to threaten our peace.

Being with Emmett was like breathing to me. It was something that I just _did_ naturally and did not have to put much thought, if any, behind it. Our relationship, more than anything, seems to be solely based on the unquestionable acceptance on our mutual ability to understand each other without much being said, because there was never a need to elaborate, and _respect_. _Always_ respect.

As my mind wandered into the finer details of how our amity ensued, I could not help the smile that tugged at the curving corners of my lips. During that time, Emmett had been a force to be reckoned with and I had not had the chance to even _hope _to dissuade him from his one-trail mindset. Even now, still.

Beaming warmly with the unraveling of our shared memories and history fleeting behind my eyes and the sun's warming rays kissing my skin, I allowed myself to get lost in my memories of the past...

* * *

><p><em>Washington<em>

_1861_

Jasper had decided, after much debate, to ultimately register me into the town school once again, thinking it would bring me out of my shell and break the spell, so to speak. It had not gone as planned, as one would imagine, in cases such as mine.

While adults are shunning and unforgiving in their opinions of what iss proper and what isn't, their children spear no leniency to those around them that bare their scars on their sleeves, one such as me.

"Your attention, please, everyone!" From my post just outside the classroom, I heard the relatively young governess that was about to introduce me demand. "Quiet down, we have a new student joining us today."

That peaked everyone's curiosity enough to bring the scholars vociferous ruckus down to merely eager chatter. Terrified out of my wits as the governess asked me to enter the room with a pointed look, I trembled where I stood and tried not to panic.

After a moment of unsuccessfully trying not to hyperventilate, I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath to steady myself before I could fool myself into willingly agreeing to public humiliation. Once I had enough of my body and mind under control, I entered the room on shuffling feet and instantly felt grateful for the long skirts that Jasper had bought and made me wear because at least they helped cover my weakness.

As the students caught sight of me an unsettling hush fell over the entire class. They all knew who I was, I was certain. Though I was only eight at the time, I had come to know heartache and pain prematurely. But no pain could have compared to the pain I felt now, from the aftershock.

Considering everything that had happened, just months prior to this day, all I had wanted to do was hang on to the hurt and pray that the numbness would dissipate while I wasted away.

However, Jasper would not have any of that. He had made that quite apparent the moment he had managed to peel me off of him long enough to convince me to agree to come here. He had promised to come for me by the end of the day… still; I could not help the uncertainty that settled at the pit of my stomach at the thought that Jasper might have had enough of me. Thus, my being so unceremoniously deposited here explained it all.

I scowled at the recollection, before I caught myself and faced the class, managing a tentative look around the room through my eyelashes and curtain of undulating mahogany hair. As far as I knew, I had not done anything _too_ overly infuriating that it would demand my being tortured. Surely? _Perhaps my inability to speak was becoming more of an issue than he had let on?_

"Everyone," the redheaded governess proceeded, "warmly welcome, Ms. Isabella Swan and show her how hospitable we can be by answering any questions she might have." I could not help but flinch as she said my full name, that was how he –I gulped, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise.

Dismissing the errant thought, before I could panic any further within the prison of my fears and recurring nightmares, I decided to tune back into my bitter reality. There was no form of reprieve anywhere I tried to escape. Asleep or awake, everything seemed inclined on adding saline to my festering wounds.

Palms sweating, I glanced once more at the governess as she continued, "Now, now, don't be shy. Say "hello" everyone, you too Isabella." If I did not know any better, I would have sworn the woman had been sneering at me scornfully.

_Had she noticed? Had they noticed?_ I flushed profusely with apprehension trying to wipe the residual panic from my face and focus on the matter at hand, before I chanced a look at the class once more.

I shuffled on my feet observing them, while they gauged me in turn, feeling as restless as they felt ensnared behind those desks. Only, I was standing alone and they were a single mass, moving as one with matching malice flooding their otherwise would-be innocent eyes.

I could feel the tension rising and reaching its peak before it dissipated into the background as the governess cleared her throat, still waiting on the chorus of greetings. I smiled tightly; trying to look pleasant and inviting enough to warrant at least one honest welcoming smile.

"Welcome, Miss Swan," someone dared to sneer. Like cannons breaking the silence through the dead of night, the classroom broke into halfhearted greetings after the one forceful greeting had been issued. If there had been any sincere salutation, it had been long lost to the onslaught of unwelcoming banter.

I raised a hand in tentative greeting, docking my face behind my curtain of hair, unable to utter a single word. However, my silent greeting seemed to be perceived as impudence. I wanted to inform them that that was not the case, but I could not speak.

I would not have been able to even if I had tried. And I had tried. I had not spoken a single word since three months ago and still my throat felt as scorched as if I kept a constant scream tearing through my lungs. Only Jasper knew this was not my case. In fact, even my screams were nothing but mute.

"Miss Swan," snapped the governess and my eyes went to hers in alarm, "do have a seat. We have not got all day for pleasantries, there are things to be done while in class." Nodding, I headed in the direction of the menacing masses, only to hesitate. "Masen," the governess sighed, sensing the reason behind my hesitation, "raise your hand and make sure that Miss Swan sees it. She'll be sitting next to you, make sure of it."

"Yes, Miss Ó Braonáin," Masen, a boy, answered and a moment later I saw his hand rise as instructed. However, when I met his eyes, an astonishing hue of evergreen, I found nothing but irritation there. Once again, I couldn't move.

"Miss Swan." Miss Ó Braonáin motioned with her hand impatiently, a dismissing move that I hastened to obey. Clutching my elbows tightly to my body, I headed in Masen's direction and tried not to trip as I avoided looking into his evergreen eyes, which were intently trained on me with a flashing glare through every step that took me closer to him. Gulping, I managed to take my seat before my knees gave out on me.

* * *

><p>Looking back now, I should have heeded the subtle warnings. Promises had been placed into them, the unkindly sort. The hours before the mid-morning recess had passed uneventful enough, with a few pushes and shoves that the governess never seemed to notice and held the undeniable promise of more to come.<p>

As reality would have it, I was showcased at school too, though. I had been branded as the tarnished laughing stock of the whole town. They blamed me for the incident that took my family from me, without even knowing what had happened. Meanwhile, I was grateful that fate had decided to show me leniency and had placed me in Jasper's care.

Only Jasper, Emily, Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett had shown me kindness, when everyone else had looked down on me with disgusted scorn, whispering unabashedly loud behind closed doors. So that I would hear them talk about Jasper's tainted and quickly declining reputation, because he had chosen to associate himself with the likes of me.

All because of me, Jasper too was being scorned. Since I had been too nice, naïve, and beautiful. I remembered, desperately wishing I were ugly, because, surely, if only I were an ugly girl, none of this would have ever happened. I would not have been the soiled and tainted one, the pariah. But I could not go back.

Then, for a moment, I had thought my prayer had been answered.

Everyone had turned away from my all-silent pleas and dealt me with pungent abhorrence and destitute diplomacy, offering me no kind words of solace. That was, until Jasper had decided to step in and take matters into his own hands.

* * *

><p>By the time the class had been released for the mid-morning recess, I was wound up with a few bruises to show on my too delicate skin that seemed to wilt with the touch of unrefined hands and fingers much too easily. The thought of Jasper rescuing me when school let out keeping me at bay, I reminded myself of his words and anchored myself to his promise, repeating the words like a mantra that could overcome everything –even nasty children.<p>

Since word of my attendance had gotten out, now everyone who passed me on their way to lunch knew to call me "Witch Child" and they casually threw it about as a form of sneering greet when forced to passing in close proximity to my vicinity. Prone on avoiding anymore distasteful jesting, I opted for a way out.

The decision to escape and reign in my seething ill temperament promptly made, I proceeded to the school's recreational area for a breather, the promise of fresh air and some alone time and away from all the prying eyes, putting a small bounce on my steps. A thought occurred to me then. Since I could not speak, maybe I could write. Nodding as I went, I began to think of how best to express my thanks to Jasper…

He had been so young, only just turned eighteen and had presently come to his fortune as it was. And regardless of everyone telling him that it was an ill advised decision, his taking me in and caring for me, he followed through. Forsaking more than his reputation, he had ignored them all, revolted by their heartless and selfish accusations.

I had never seen or met a man more deserving of my awe than Jasper. In that one moment of resolution, where he threw his future out the window for me, when he did not even know me, had always stayed with me, leaving an undeniable impression.

I had just started my letter to Jasper, my skirts puddle scrupulously about my feet were I knelt, as not to furrow them, when the sound of scurrying feet and a scandalous ruckus inundated every sound, but the sound of my accelerated heart beating and trying to escape through my raw throat. Their torrent was drawing nearer and closing in on me. I was the intended target.

"Hey, Witch Child!" they chanted as they approached, kicking up the dirt. A tremor ran through me as I hugged myself, trying to hold onto the pieces of myself that threatened to crumble and break away. Hands shoved me and probed me; other's poked at me with soiled brushwood that skinned at my neck, forearms, and ribs leaving their marks on my marred wilting body. Every drop of blood that I had shed was like a petal that had wilted and shriveled under winter's neglected care. Only, this picture was not as tragically romantic or beautiful. It was real and my soul suffered for it.

"You think she might be writing some kind of curse in that book of hers?" another mused contemptuously, though he feigned fear.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" sneered a vile voice, filled with bloodcurdling contempt, further supplying the crowd's loathsome form of entertainment, "A pretty Witch–" the group interrupted, jeering in protest at the compliment.

"Filthy witch!" they chorused ruthlessly. I flinched. "Filthy Witch!" The wind seemed to carry their cries in earnest, ridiculing me.

The entertainer chuckled. "She's not a pretty witch?" he asked with an attempt at innocence failed, his fingers brushing gently through my tresses and I stiffened under the ministration before, thankfully, he let go, stepping away. "Not even a tad bit?" By now, he sounded like he was pouting. My breath grew heavy, painful.

"Noooo!" the throng screamed, appalled by the mere thought.

"Then I stand corrected," he allowed. "The eye can sometimes be deceiving, you know?" The group laughed with a flourish. "My apologies then! When I said pretty, I meant to say petty!"

"That's more like it!" The crowd showed its assent with more tomfoolery and chanting, "Petty Witch, petty witch!"

"So, we have amongst ourselves a petty Witch and her book of spells, perhaps?" My breathing came in shallow, labored wheezes.

"That's it!" The crowd cheered, growing louder, humming with spiteful anticipation, and laughing. I could hear my blood rushing loudly through my ears, I held myself tighter until my knuckles turned white and my teeth clattered painfully.

"Shan't we have a look and find out for ourselves?" offered the conniving orchestrator, stepping deliberately closer to me and soiling my skirts with his muddied boots. I jolted as his harsh fingers tangled deep into my hair and pulled my head back painfully.

The crowd grew jarringly silent. An expectant hush enveloping them enthralled by the moment as the windswept by their feet and caught a few leaves in its playful flow before spiriting them away, just as gently. What cunning whisper the wind has, everything follows in its wake.

A guttural sound vibrated in my throat, expressing my pain and fear like no other words could. "You do not mind, do you, Witch Child?" the vile-sweet voice of the man-child whispered harshly in my ear, his lips brushing hotly against my skin, making it crawl with revulsion from his unwelcomed proximity.

His grip tightened on my hair as he tugged forcefully at it and a hoarse wail sounded in my ears –a deafening sound. It was happening again, all over. Blond tresses, flashes of pale skin, and dark fabric obscured my vision, making my breath hitch at the sight of a slender, yet, strong hand purposefully coming my way.

One more searing breath passed through my lungs, burning my chest. After, my chest remained unmoving as my panic grew, the closer his hand came into possible contact with my withered body. I grasped desperately at the hand grasping my hair, trying to loosen it by clawing at it with everything that I had.

"Now, now, Witch, we will not be having any of that," he seethed ever so quietly, only for my ears to hear, causing a shiver to run down my spine with trepidation. I could not move and I could not scream, though I longed for nothing more than to pierce the deafening silence. I could not do or say anything to defend myself. So I remained paralyzed, watching everything as if it were not happening to me.

However, the hand that I had thought was coming closer to further hurt me went over me and reached toward my lap, where my forgotten tome lay. Suddenly, my vision was filled with the sight of steel amber eyes obscured and framed by a nimbus of messy white-blond tresses, which met my brown panic-overflowing eyes for a long moment, handsome face sneering, eyes cruel, as the young lad snatched the tome from my lap, using my head for support.

"Appear to be naught but a love note to me!" he hollered as his cohorts joined in on the laughter. "Or perhaps, it is but a love potion?" I closed my eyes, trying to escape; I was frozen in a fragile world of make believe and empty lies, afraid to cry. "Think you may possibly be the next poor bastard under her love spell?" the blond spat.

Murmurs went all around as they all spat, warding off evil. My need to scream was beginning to suffocate me. For a brief moment my eyes flashed open and I was met with the sight of cherry-blond hair flying behind a fast retreating form of a girl who only looked back once she had reached a safe distance.

My body tensed as another chaos inducing commotion broke out behind me, awaiting more onslaughts. More were coming. I let out a shaky breath. It felt like I was trading air for water, oppressive. _Bitter._

"Break it up!" boomed a new young volatile voice and the cohort quieted, almost immediately, but did not make to leave. I felt a wave of momentary relief spark through my extremities. This voice sounded a bit older, but simultaneously boyish –with a promise of becoming a warm baritone in a not too distant future.

"What the–" Whoever the voice belonged to had been thrown aside unceremoniously. My eyes remained tightly shut, for fear of what I might encounter if I did open them.

"Oi, do not lean out!" someone protested indignantly. Other voices joined in agreeing objection. I was shaking in fear, unable to move, my body coiling in, momentary relief long forgotten.

"What have you–" the new voice halted in mid rant as his eyes, I assumed, fell on me and he gasped. "She's bleeding," he noted. I was? I tried touching any part of me that I could reach but my limbs remained immobile.

Frustration sipped through my fear and a silent sob rocked my frame. _Tears_. I had forgotten the feel of tears against my cheeks, until now. My right hand moved then, as I reached up and dabbed at the dampness that slid lazily down my face, gathering at my chin, falling onto my lap, and soaking my left hand. I had not known there were any more tears to be shed. I was sure I had tired them all. But here they were again, more furious than before. More _silent_.

"Let it go McCar–" More shoving, resistance, and grunting.

"Let me through, Caius," the one in possession of the impulsive voice demanded, ignoring all others or their warnings. I shivered, hearing the glare in his voice. It was fear provoking.

"Easy there, we were just having some fun," the voice of the boy leading my torture huffed indignantly. Clearly, he was not afraid of the opposing threat.

"I know your kind of fun, Caius," grumbled the volatile boy, "and if I were to judge from past experiences and if memory serves true, I would say that this is not just you and your cohort of cowards having some fun."

"It is but harmless fun," the boy, Caius, insisted his tone like warmed honey, "we were just showing the little Witch Child our hospitality, as instructed by our governess. Is that not so?" His group agreed, laying hotly on the defense. I almost snorted at that, forgetting my fear. "Really, Emmett, there is nothing for you to see here, I insist," the finality in Caius' voice was frightening.

"Let me through," Emmett insisted and tried to forcefully push himself through once again.

"No," Caius replied calmly, daring, a sneer in his voice.

"Last chance," Emmett gritted.

I was trembling from head to toe. Maybe this Emmett was someone more worrisome than this cunning Caius?

"My answer remains unchanged. No."

"Emmett!" Someone, a female voice, shouted in warning.

Something like a growl echoed, everything seemed to slow to a crawl as I waited with bated breath. Caius' fingers left my hair moments before a collision of flesh against flesh was the only thing I could hear and be aware of. Many things happened all at once.

Pain predominated every sound uttered. A blow-to-blow fight was being fought, the air grew immensely tense, and I was certain I heard the sound of bone breaking before the scurrying of feet carried some cowards away from the scene and attracted more attention to the vicinity.

Silence fell. Curses were muttered. My eyes still tear soaked, remained tightly shut and I was sure I had smeared some blood all over my face; I could smell its thick metallic stench and feel its thick pattern mixed with my tears. I did not want to see the blood. I would be sick if I did. I would remember.

"Take him to the infirmary," Emmett croaked, biting back a curse and approaching me from behind, as my back remained turned to him.

By the time his steps had carried him to me, I was breathing raggedly and my eyes had snapped open, but I did not dare move. I waited, preparing to uncoil and bolt, ignoring the smell of blood and its sight as I focused my vision on my trembling hands instead.

"Emmett, perhaps you shan't?" that same female voice questioned, uncertain. "Let me…"

"She is covered in blood," Emmett replied simply, as if that explained everything.

"Yes, but–"

A large hand touched my small shoulder tentatively as my body trembled and I pushed myself into motion.

* * *

><p><em>Washington<em>

_1871_

"Emmett," I mumble wistfully, trying to gain his attention as I came back to the present and try to eradicate myself from thoughts of the past.

"Hmm?" he hums back, keeping the gentle, steady pace of his fingers caress through my cascading hair that now spread over his thighs and knees, whistling, as I still continued to rest my head on his lap. I smiled placidly at the familiar melody.

Such intimate action had been continuously frowned upon by our society, given that we were opposing sexes and we were not courting, and even then it would have been deemed unseemly, but we heed them no mind.

Shifting slightly to glance up at Emmett, I noticed him staring up at the shadowy patterns cast by the leaves of the tree where the sun peaked through them. He was trying to make sense of them as he whistled his well-worn tune. Once again, I smiled at this. A whistling Emmett was a content Emmett without a care in the world weighing him down. A content Emmett equaled an equally content me.

"I was just thinking…" I sighed as his caramel eyes met my own chocolate eyes with kind amusement dancing behind them. I was _always _thinking. "You remember the day we met?" Out of habit, I lifted my right hand and tucked away some unruly tresses away from his face just behind his ear so that they would not obstruct my view of his eyes.

He smiled lightly at the habitual affectionate gesture and kissed the inside of my wrist, his usual reciprocation for my affection. I smiled warmly at that and tried to recall the exact moment in which this one gesture had started to become habitual between us.

Emmet nodded, some volatile mischief making its presence known behind his grinning eyes before he spoke, "Of course, how could I ever fail to remember such remarkable encounter as ours, Miss Swan?"

"This again?" I huff. He is clearly jesting now.

This, of course, earns me some rumbling chuckles. Quieting down he proceeds to tap my nose twice, trying to pass it for an admonishment. This earns him a round of my quiet giggles. "You see," he continues, his voice taking a tone of conspiracy, "I still have the scars to show for it, after all!"

I gasp, feigning offense as my cheeks flush a warm tinge of rouge, which his knuckles absentmindedly acknowledge in passing. "Is that so?" I challenge, "Go on then, show me these scars you declare to posses."

This, naturally, I knew to be true. I had left my mark on him, unintentional as it was. He snickers, though he almost manages to pass it off as an indignant snort. I mock glare at him and expectantly wait to see what he does next. Emmett never does disappoint.

With some difficulty he sobers up. "Let us see…" he garbles as he thoughtfully embarks on skimming his fingers all over his handsome face to try and find the telltale signs of raised skin on his otherwise smooth skin. I laugh at his antics. "Ah-ha, here it is!" he exclaims triumphantly, winking at me, and it took all of me not to roll my eyes at him.

Smirking I placate him as I right myself, stowing my tresses behind my ears, and dust my dress before proceeding to inspect the long healed pearly damage. Moving his fingers away I trace my fingers over the light scarring starting from the curve of his left eyebrow to where his left eye slanted, the same pattern he had previously been tracing.

Unless you really looked at Emmett or knew what you were looking for, you might have never noticed the many chicken-scratches that ghostly mutilate his handsome features with random, pearly continuance at the edges. They marred his skin on either side of his temple, and in my opinion, they were a beautiful reminder of how far we have come since then.

"Ah… there they are," I whisper almost too quiet for my own ears to hear, much less his. I smile sadly and reminiscently at the evidence before attempting to kiss it away and ask for forgiveness with one tender kiss. Still, the fact that I hurt him at some point haunts me.

Emmett delicately encases my wrists on either side of his face with his fingers, effectively stopping my tormenting over his scars, before he sighs, "Bella…" It is like a quiet warning, which allows my discomfort to ebb away. I see it in his eyes, that familiar plea that asks me not to dwell in the past and the things that were out of my control.

I know he does not recent me for the scars. Emmett is not capable of holding such rancor, but at times I cannot help but feel such guilt over them and thinking that, perhaps, Emmett is too kind to me for his own good. But he loves me and I him and I hate that I've done this to him and that at times I feel glad that I did.

"You know it was not your fault, Bella," he consoles and I rewarded him with a watery, tentative smile. "We were but wee children and you were distressed." He strokes my cheek with such love and delicacy that I don't deserve, that I feel like I might cry and he smiles, understanding before adding in his usual teasing note, "And I did not know any better."

"I know, you were very brave," I manage to say. But only because he expects it of me, however my words do not fool him. I knew, I really did know. But my guilt also came from the pleasure I got seeing those scars there.

Seeing part of our history ebbed on his skin, it was like that made my bond to Emmett seem that much stronger; it made for a sadistic retelling of our history. It was twisted and in some forms a sickening satisfaction that I was constantly berating myself for, whenever such thoughts rose to the forefront.

But I could not tell him any of these thoughts, out of fear. Surely, Emmett would hate my more than possessive way of viewing his unnatural skin alterations and harbor some resentment.

"Besides, you can barely see them," he persists. As I thought, I had not fooled him.

"But I know they are there, Emmett, I see them," I counter.

He sighs, dejectedly, "Only because you choose to ignore my wishes and sentiments on the matter. I have never, never resented you for these scars, Bella." He looks at me pointedly and I fidget, there's something in his eyes that make me think that whatever he adds next is something that will be admitted unwillingly and in order to appease me. "Actually, I feel satisfied every time I see them there."

His confession startles me. I frown momentarily, momentarily baffled and stare at the unblemished fabric of his collar and beginning to toy with it, trying to find something to do while gathering my wits to ask what I want to ask. Emmett patiently waits, knowing not to push me. The smooth silk of his tie does it. I breathe in and look Emmett sharply in the eyes once again.

"Really?" I need to know. Because, I cannot believe what I am hearing, I had to pinch the inside of my wrist to reassure myself that I am still awake and that Emmett had said what he said. I found my hands had moved without my consent and my fingers ghosted over Emmett's lips, feeling the vibrations of his words, the warmth of his breath as he continued reassuring me upon my naked fingertips.

"It is as if, these scars," He whispers, touching his scars absent mindedly, "they keep on reminding me that, yes, everything that has happened and will happen between us is real. Because God only knows, I sometimes think I will wake up prematurely one day, smell the roses, and realize that meeting you and getting to know you has all been naught but something I have all but made up, Isabella." He shivers at the thought and looks into my eyes imploringly, searching for the understanding he knew he would usually find there.

There was nothing but a train wreckage happening in slow motion behind my otherwise unaffected exterior. It was all a façade, which fell as soon as I saw myself reflected in his vulnerable eyes. I was afraid to speak or say the wrong thing and hurt him.

By now I was shaking so bad that Emmett held me tight to him, whispering reassurances. How Emmett always manages to put into words what I feel always catches me by surprise and rattles me to the core, now was no exception to that unspoken truth.

"Bella, please, say something," he begs. I nod, licking my lips. What can I say? There is nothing to say, really. Or is there? I frown, running through the different scenarios my mind continued to throw at me and settle on one.

"Is it–" I hesitate, searching into Emmett's eyes for the strength to proceed. "Is it twisted that, whenever I see these scars," I touch the scars in question, "I feel nothing but ownership over you and not even a hint of remorse?" My breath catches in my throat as I wait for his response with bated breath. I close my eyes; I cannot look at him and see his disgust for me so openly. I just cannot.

"Isabella, open your eyes," I hear and his whisper upon my face. Almost fearing, I do as he asks. Emmett is smiling and when I meet his eyes, the smile grows even more pronounced. I wait, rigid on his lap. "No. It isn't."

His swift and confident reply at last resonated in me, releasing my fears, as his thumb catches a stray tear before it fully has a chance to fall and stain my cheek. I swallowed hard, finally allowing myself to breathe. Swaying with relief I rested my forehead against Emmett's chest, the rhythmic thumping of his heart reaching my ears and lulling my nerves.

"Thank you," I breathe, taking him in and seeing Emmett in a new light. Emmett gives my hand a gentle squeeze, always reassuring. "Thank you…"

"You and I, Bella, we feel the same," he explains. "I could no more consider viewing your thoughts as twisted, without considering my own as such. And if they are…" he shrugs, showing how much he cares about being wrapped up and twisted. "As long as you continue to have me, that is," he confesses after a pause. I chuckle and he smiles at me coyly.

Instantly, more relief floods through me. Bringing his hand to the nape of my neck, Emmett lowers his lips to my hair and kisses the top of my head and breathes me in.

"Thank God…" My voice sounds hoarse, even to my ears. "I do not believe, I would have made it these ten years in without you by my side," I admit.

He chuckles. "Nawther I."

I smirk, feeling like a change in atmosphere is about to present itself as soon as I mumble, "Thank you for the vote of confidence…"

As always, Emmett is quick on the uptake. Though, he had to work through a small moment of confusion and then panic before realizing I had just been jesting. His laughter permeates the air as the last of our lingering gloominess melts away and we both allow ourselves a hearty laugh, scaring a few passersby in the process.


	2. Threadbare, Shaken, and Beautiful

_**Previously:**_

_As always, Emmett was quick on the uptake, though he had to work through a small moment of confusion, then panic before realizing I had just been jesting. His laughter permeated the air as the last of our lingering gloominess melted away and we both allowed ourselves a hearty laugh, scaring a few passersby in the process._

* * *

><p><strong>Captured by the Code of Fear<strong>

**Threadbare, Shaken, and Beautiful**

Washington

1871

_**Miss Swan's POV**_

After our laughter had subsided we fell into a comfortable silence with smiles on our lips. Trading the hardwood of roots for green pastures we sat ourselves comfortably surrounded by cool grass and engaged on our favorite pastime, people watching.

We observed young suitors approaching respectable prospect wives candidate, while attempting dull conversations about the weather and other more dreary topics that could make any respectable gentleman or lady yawn with unabashed tedium. Meanwhile, the more daring tried their hand at blatant flirtation.

Laughing heartily we surveyed the young Mr. Newton loosing his wits about him while he paid superficial compliments to a flustered Ms. Stanley, who had been leisurely walking and enjoying the weather alongside her canine familiar. After a while their mingling was brought to an abrupt end as Miss Stanley's familiar in a rather bold move, lifted its hind leg and peed all over Mr. Newton's boots.

The mortified Miss Stanley made for a nippy retreat, the wind carrying her many apologies to deaf ears as she took them with her. All the while a red-faced Mr. Newton muttered unrefined words under his breath, squelching all the way home.

It was, truly, most amusing.

Around this time I also realized that Emmett's laughter had died as his attention was elsewhere. I glanced sideways at Emmett, intrigued. He was holding his breath. My brow knitted. Following his line of vision, I found what held his attention, or more like, _whom_.

His eyes where following a curvaceous attractive female whose blond, wavy hair undulated down to her curved waist and swayed with her every calculated move. It was Miss Hale, who was walking purposefully on the other side of the road, about to disappear around a bend with a white parasol over her left shoulder, dressed in a blush red afternoon gown looking regal.

Emmett let out a shaky breath, running a nervous hand over his own dark tresses as soon as she disappeared behind the bend, just out of sight.

I could not help it, I giggled exuberantly.

"What?" Emmett questioned sheepishly, just noticing my staring.

"Miss Hale, huh?" I said teasingly, absently twirling a blade of grass between my fingertips. I glanced up just in time to notice a blush taking residence high on his cheekbones. He cleared his throat.

"I believe I do not follow what you are insinuating, Bella," he mumbled, looking away from me to stare longingly at the spot where he had last seen Miss Hale. Hoping to see more of her soon, I presumed.

My gaze softened then and I touched his forearm, trying to earn his attention. He glanced at where my hand touched him and a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. The small display of affection making me braver I steeled my nerves, an idea brewing in the crevices of my troubled mind.

"You know, Emmett…" my voice trailed off, cautious and kind, "sometimes I feel like I know you better than I know myself.

He sighed at my words and lifted his hazel eyes nearly warily to meet mine saying, "That would be because you do."

"You love her, Miss Hale, that is." It was not a question, but a statement. I said it as tenderly as I could, understanding the delicate nature of the subject.

"You have one on me," he said sarcastically. My heart caught in my throat, lurching. For a moment we remained quiet, lost in our own boggling thoughts, chasing after no man's land.

"It is as you say, I _do_… love her," he confided demurely, long after. I nudged him playfully, shoulder to shoulder. Relief flooded through my extremities, making my fingertips tingle with familiar warmth and elation. "When did you grow up so much, so suddenly?" he mused, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest. "You are growing much too fast, you know, now I cannot even get anything past you."

"Not that you ever did get away with much in the first place," I said, teasing, earning a smile that showcased his dimples. "You have only yourself to blame."

"And I shall take full responsibility for that in the future," he assured.

"You sure will."

"Oh _no_," Emmett groaned, studying me skeptically, "I know _that_ look."

"What look?" I asked innocently.

"Out with it," Emmett implored. He knew me only too well.

I smiled wolfishly. "I have… a proposition of unorthodox sorts to make," I announced, pondering the possibilities of what I was about to ask. What I would be risking to obtain what I wanted. Though, it would also give Emmett what he wanted, too, if it worked. My thoughts ran ahead of me, contemplating.

"I should have guessed, shan't be the first time." Emmett rolled his eyes, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "Are you going to leave me in the dark here, or are you going to tell me what you are on about here?"

"Just–" I hesitated, "promise me you will hear me out and that you will keep an open mind."

"Is it that serious?" he questioned uncertainly, eyes serious.

"It could be," I allowed, feeling foolish and squeamish under his probing gaze. My previous ideas in the past had been unorthodox, if not a tad questionable, but never serious. I was beginning to believe that perhaps I should just dismiss the whole charade and let it be when Emmett's voice startled me out of my thoughts.

"What is it?" he questioned gently. I sighed. "You know you can tell me anything." He held my hand then, giving it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. "Bella?"

"I do."

"Then, please, tell me, no matter what it is. I will hear you out." Sincerity excelled clear in Emmett's eyes, giving me courage and bringing my search to an end. His eyes showing me everything I had been searching for and more. "Humor me." Here it goes…

"What would you be willing to do, if it meant you could have Miss Hale, forever, at your side?" My tone was serious, even, and gave no room for questions. I meant what I was about to propose and it showed in my tone alone, as would my expression.

"Anything," Emmett said fiercely, with fervor. I smiled a savage smile, one that shocked Emmett because he had never seen such a smile on my lips before. It was invigorating.

"Then, I am certain you will agree with what I have in mind…" And I divulged my plan to him, knowing full well that by the end of it he would know how truly deluded I was and leave me. There was no way that Emmett would possibly agree to such an audacious scheme as the one I had in mind.

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><p><em><strong>Mr. McCarty's POV<strong>_

Ever since I met Isabella Swan, I have known to expect the unexpected when it came to her and her _propositions_, they were in one manner or another, unorthodox. Always. It was like a norm for her. Now was no exception.

For all her bashfulness, Bella was not one to fall prey to the mute conformist routine her fellow female counterparts seemed so keen on following ever so methodically.

As I listened to Bella speak I found myself staring at her in awed wonder, since it was the only thing I could manage to do. Really, her words should not have shocked me, only, they had. Her proposition, if one could call it that, was far beyond _unorthodox_. It went against everything I stood for and everything I believed in, and yet, I found myself considering it.

_Because_, I found myself thinking, _it could very bloody well work_. What did we have to loose anyway, if it did not work? _Everything_, my mind whispered violently, in a bout of reason. We had our very _friendship _to loose over this. And if it _did_… should I risk it all?

I stared at Bella for a long time, my stubborn silence echoing loudly in my ears. What could she possibly want me to say to her _proposition_, what did she expect? What _was_ there to be said? Had I heard her right or had my ears deceived me?

"Look, Emmett, just forget I ever mentioned it," Bella said hastily, fretting the worst given my silence. It pained me to see her in such a state and knowing I was the cause made the pain feel like a force crunching and shriveling my heart. But I made my decision.

"No," I managed to whisper, sounding hoarse.

"_No_?" Bella swallowed, looking near hysterics, her fingers twisting at her skirts in frenzy.

"_Yes_," I found myself nodding, assessing my options and weighing the possible outcomes, my fists clenching and unclenching. "Bella, we have overcome plenty of hardship over the years…"

"We have…" It was but a croak, but it was an answer. I stood languidly and started to pace around Bella. While she watched me, nerves frying.

"I think…" I continued. "No. I am of a strong believe that if what you propose backfires we _will_ recover–"

"But–" her alarm was palpable; clearly she thought I was not thinking this properly through. "Not from something like _this_." I ignored her.

"I have seen many hardships at your side, Isabella," I looked sharply at her then, halting her rising protest by merely using her name, letting her know how serious I was. "You and I, _together _we have seen experienced things beyond our years. Enough to have the confidence to say that we _will_ overcome our failure, _if_ and when it comes to that," I concluded. "The possibilities, Bella!" I was beginning to feel overeager. It _could_ work. It just _had _to!

"Emmett, you are not thinking this through… you are jumping ahead," Bella whispered weakly, shaken. "Forget I even said anything, _please_."

"I have," I assured her, gaze softening as I knelt before her. "And I cannot forget something like this." With gentle fingers I brushed aside her hair, bringing fingertips to her delicate chin and with a gentle tug, lifted her face so that she would look at me. Uncertainly her eyes found mine and I stared a long time into them, mustering my sincerity without the use of unfulfilling words.

"All right… it seems you know what is at stake," Bella breathed shakily, nodding to herself after a while.

"I do." Bella really looked at me then, searching. I wondered what she saw or found because, whatever it was, seemed to gain her some resolve back.

"Since I was the one to make such bold proposition, I guess it would not be possible to simply back out now, would it?"

"Most certainly not," I said, smiling hugely at her, dimples and all. She laughed then, without a care in the world. She looked beautiful and the sound of her laughter twisted at my heart with such warm recollection.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

1861

* * *

><p>Word had spread about the new girl quickly, like wild, out of hand fire. I had heard talk about her all morning and none of it was good. Though, it was not kind talk at all, it was what had me intrigued. I was not one to be intrigued by town gossip, but this time it was different. It revolved around a little girl three years my junior who went by the name of Isabella Swan. Chaos gave the impression to follow this girl wherever she went.<p>

"Have you seen the Witch Child yet?" Someone to my left, Alec, inquired quietly of one of his friends. Referring to the one Isabella Swan, as I soon found out.

"Have you?"

"A pretty, fragile little thing that, I must say," Alec admitted begrudgingly with what sounded like ominous contempt. I frowned. "We should all go introduce ourselves soon."

"Please, Alec, that is most disturbing," admonished Jane, Alec's twin sister, never the voice of reason. In fact, she could do more damage than her brother, more often than not. She was a terrible beauty, literally. "I say we stay as far away from that _Swan_ girl," she sneered, "as these small hallways allow, else we end up like her."

"But sister, surely, you are most intrigued?" Alec persuaded. "One look shan't hurt. I shall protect you, dearest sister, if worst comes to worse." Their group fell into a bout of hushed laughter.

"If the lot of you want to go have a look at the town's fool, go ahead, but I am staying here," Jane huffed indignantly. Clearly, someone was not happy at the attention little Isabella Swan was getting on her first day of school. Adding her brother to the sea of interested onlookers did not bode well either. Since, she was the center of attention, usually.

"Aro and Caius seemed intrigued," a new voice interjected, Felix. Everyone was aware of Jane's affection when it came to Aro, our senior by a year, and he was playing on that affection to try and get her to agree. He was playing a dangerous game. It was reckless and could backfire in the worse possible way.

Jane likes to play being favorite in Aro's eyes and anyone who got in the way of that, had better be in the look out. However, having those two interested in anyone could not bode well for anyone involved. It was worrisome, really.

I had heard enough. I had problems a plenty without having to trouble myself with anyone else's plight. Tuning out, I turned to Tanya, who had been watching me and trying to earn my attention for quite some time now.

"Emmett, you look out of sorts," she observed. "How is everything at home?" I looked sharply at her then, not liking where her query was leading. Her eyes widened for a moment. "Sorry," she mumbled, hastily looking away from me.

"Tanya…" I started to apologize as our governess dismissed us for mid-morning recess. I sighed gravely as I watched Tanya gather her things quickly and exit the room before I could continue my apology.

"McCarthy, you coming?" Garrett inquired from the doorframe.

"Sure," I mumbled absently, "just go ahead of me, I shall meet the lot of you there."

"We will save you a spot then," Garrett agreed, joining the crowd of eager scholars departing toward the canteen with an overeager Kate in tow.

Unhurriedly I gathered my things, lost in my own thoughts as the rest of my class exited the room before me.

"Everything all right, Mr. McCarty?" Mrs. Clearwater inquired kindly.

"Yes, Mrs. Clearwater, just thinking, is all," I assured her, gathering the last of my things and attempting to make for a hurried exit and fumbling too much for my liking.

"It is so rare to see the sight of a frown upon your brow, that it becomes worrisome when there is!" I looked up quickly, giving her my best smile, the one that showed both dimples. Mrs. Clearwater blinked and smiled back tightly, tentatively, slightly taken aback.

"Really, Mrs. Clearwater, you worry a great deal too much!" I assured her and gathered the last of my things. That was the last thing I needed, my governess worrying over me. Especially when I was worrying about a girl that I had yet to meet.

She shook her head, mildly amused. "Best be on your way then, I suspect your friends are eagerly awaiting for your company," she said, dismissing me. I beamed and stood in haste.

"Enjoy your lunch, Mrs. Clearwater!" I shouted over my shoulder, just reaching the doorframe and stepping into the hallway. I was one known for extravagantly loud exits. In my world, you had to laugh in order not to cry. Because tears where followed by more tears. And I did not welcome those, only laughter. Laughter, empty or not, it suited me better.

Mrs. Clearwater rolled her eyes at my sudden demonstration of enthusiasm. "Now, Mr. McCarthy, enjoy your lunch as well, but best keep your voice down!" she admonished, though her eyes gleamed with amusement and her voice shook with mild laughter. "We are still in civilization!" I left in a chaotic flourish, a trademark of mine.

By now, the hallways were practically empty with only a few straddling kids stalking the halls. Shouting my greetings east and west and to anyone who happened to pay me any attention I made my way to the canteen.

I simply followed the same rout I have wandered for the past five years and joined Garrett and the rest of my friends at our usual table in the furthest corner of the murky room. Our corner was the brightest, though. Thanks to the single window that allowed the rays of the sun to shine a light on the floating dust particles.

_The more to enjoy your food!_ (End it with a toothy smile.)

"Afternoon," I greeted in a brief mumble to the table at large.

"Afternoon, Emmett," five varying voices reciprocated my greeting with no apparent enthusiasm as they continued to eat in silence. I took my place, across from Garret and Irina on my left. And taking inventory of our group, I realized who our missing link was, Tanya. I sighed and for a moment, all movement ceased. My group was perceptive. I still had not come to a conclusion as to weather or not that was good or bad.

"Where is Tanya?" I inquired. Sasha was the one to respond, her cousin, who sat at the head of the table to my right. I looked to hear and her ocean blue eyes bore into mine.

"She worries for you," she said. It was not the answer I had been expecting. "Let her." I looked away, feeling ashamed. I knew this. "That being said," she continued kindly, "she decided to eat outside today and enjoy the fresh air."

I nodded.

"Thank you." I stood, planning to go find Tanya and apologize, but Sasha, her warm, delicate fingers around my wrist stopped me with a shake of her head.

"She needs to have time to herself, Emmett," she explained. "Time to think." Without me there, I concluded, accepting. I saw the warning shadowed behind her curtains of dark, inky tresses. If I dared not heed her warning, there would be consequences.

After that, we all continued to eat in silence, the chatter of everyone around us the only sound. Chairs clattered, scratching the rough flooring and feet shuffled in different levels of purpose and aimlessness. There was plenty of murmured chatter that made me uneasy. It was as if everyone was aware of something happening that I was not and they were mocking me for it.

Ignoring such sullen thoughts, I ate my sandwich without really tasting it, trying not to think about the new girl and all the rumors regarding her. I really needed to halt my obsession over her. Sighing, I picked at the corners of my sandwich and removed the crust before taking another bite.

"What do the lot of you think about what has been said of the new girl?" Irina inquired tentatively; breaking the silence our table had fallen under. I tensed, food partway to my mouth, looking to her. Three other pairs of eyes looked to her too, unblinking. She shifted uncomfortably under our stares, tugging nervously at her blond curls and twirling them around her little finger.

"Isabella Swan," I asked tersely. "What about her?" Everyone's eyes moved swiftly to stare at me curiously before switching to stare expectantly at Kate who, bravely, spoke up next.

"There are many rumors…" Kate trailed off, sitting closer to Garrett as I fixed my eyes on her, shuffling nervously in her sit. Garrett glared at me for a moment; only I would not back down, as he whispered to Kate words that only she could hear.

"Since when do we believe the rumors?" Sasha, always the voice of reason in our group, said almost dismissively.

"It is not about the rumors," Irina hissed defensively. "I saw her and–" A murmur traveled through the rousing canteen, curious and alert, interrupting Irina's next words. The crowding scholars were expecting a spectacle.

I did not have to wonder far nor long as to the reason behind the sudden excitement. It came in the form of a slamming door and more furious murmuring. Still I managed not to turn and look, though the look of alarm on Kate's face made it hard and tempting. Even Garrett seemed dumbstruck. He had stopped eating altogether, a funny look twisting his usually calm features.

"Emmett!" Tanya's voice cried, making me turn. She was running toward us, a wild panicked look in her eyes and cherry-blond hair in disarray, strands of it sticking to the perspiration coating her flushed face, which was a very rare sight for Tanya. "Emmett, hurry!"

Every eye was on us now, the room humming with anticipation as everyone waited with bated breath.

"Tanya, calm down. What is going on?" Sasha asked as quietly as possible, alarmed along with the rest of our table.

"There is no time to calm down or explain, so do not dare to tell me to calm down!" Tanya hissed, shaking her head. She had _hissed_? "Please, Emmett, hurry," she said, directing her next words to me. "They will hurt her if we fail to do something, _quick_."

"Hurt who, Tanya?" I asked, standing. Her haste was contagious.

"Isabella Swan," she managed between pants, nearly screaming in hushed hysterics as she groped at a stitch on her side, trying to breath properly. My blood ran cold and hot at her words. Despair prickled and stung at the tip of my toes, crawling its way in a creeping chill up my spine, and into the recess of my mind, where all thoughts jumbled together into a slow crawl and stopped. I was set into motion.

"Garrett," I said, looking to him, a meaningful look kindled in the depths of my eyes. He must have seen something change in that moment. His eyes widened momentarily, before he found himself nodding.

"I shall go find Mrs. Clearwater," he said, purposefully standing. Kate followed suit, so did the others. I followed Tanya outside, hoping that we were not late.

"What happened?" I wanted to know. Dread made its presence known violently. The dark, ominously look that shadowed her eyes, showing me what I needed to know and feared.

"Caius and his group," Tanya replied simply, disgusted. This knowledge came as no surprise, I suspected as much. A wild, unknown feeling festered deep in my gut, making me sick. "Run ahead, I shall catch up to you." I understood. I went ahead, leaving Tanya behind.

All I had to do was follow the jeering voices and look to the small gathering near a slope where a magnanimous tree stood weeping its swaying branches into the small pond, and there I found them. Caius and his cohort of low-grade delinquents were gathered around the weeping tree's trunk in a tight semicircle looking savage.

Of all of them, Caius stood out like a sore thumb, standing in the middle of the chaotic turmoil like its prime instigator, looking quite at home with the onlookers feeding at his malice. He was something to behold, pale skin and hair flared into an eerie glow by the rays of the sun, looking terrible. A sweeping look flooded me with a small sense of relief. Aro was, thankfully, nowhere in sight. Meaning, Caius was operating alone, for now; this would have to work to my advantage.

Reining in my rage, I found my voice and steeled it, "Break it up!" My voice sounded loud and clear, heads turned to sneer and mouths ceased their jeering talk, though none made to leave. I shuffled, momentarily feeling like I could not move, and hoping that I did not sound as boyish as I felt, under their sneering criticism.

Snapping out of my frozen step, catching a glimpse of the huddled figure amidst the crowding I launched forward, parting my way with muscle and strength. Some resistance was met but I continued to move forward unceremoniously, hearing some shouts here and there, merely focused on the quivering, huddling figure ahead of me. Bella Swan was terrified, shaken and frozen by it, looking like she might fall to pieces from the sheer force of her tremors.

"What have you-" I began, halting mid rant as my eyes widened, noticing something else that my eyes had somehow overlooked at first glance. "She is _bleeding_," I said, deadly quiet, noting that Isabella had stopped her quivering at my words and I only hoped that was a good sign.

There was so much blood. I had only seen this much blood once; the results had not been good. I hated the sight of blood. It brought up nightmares and bittersweet memories.

My screams reaching through the thick veil of the abyss I drowned in, like a fish drowning in its own sea, created a passage for eradicating the haunting memories that still woke me in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The echoes of my screams reverberating back to me in the dead of night, as they bounced off the walls that could not close off the world of nightmares.

My gut tightened and I savored the metallic tang of blood in my mouth as I tried to keep the haunting memories locked at the back of my mind, where they belonged while I was still awake and in control.

"Let it go McCar-" a voice I recognized but could not place began to say, placing a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged out of the touch, shoving whoever it was to the side and tried to get to the heart of the circle and moved toward Isabella.

By now, many hands had united to hold me back and I struggled against them with bared teeth, grunting.

"Let me through, Caius," I said commandingly.

"Easy there, we were just having some fun," huffed Caius, looking slightly alarmed, though he hid it well. Clearly, he was afraid of the opposing threat that was my size and strength. He certainly did not want the situation to come to blows.

"I know your kind of fun, _Caius_," I grumbled, "and if I were to judge from past experiences and if memory serves true, I would say that this is not just _you_ and your cohort of cowards having _some_ _fun_."

"It is but harmless fun," Caius, persisted his tone becoming slightly persuasive, "we were just showing the little _Witch Child _our hospitality, as instructed by our governess. Is that not so?" His word choice made me impassive, while the idiots around him agreed, laying hotly on the defense. "Really, Emmett, there is nothing for you to see here, I insist."

"Let me _through_,"I insisted, once again.

"No," Caius replied calmly, daring, with a distinct sneer in his voice. He was putting on quite a good act for everyone around us.

"Last chance," I warned through gritted teeth. I had the satisfaction of seeing Caius cower, though it was short-lived.

Bella was trembling from head to toe and it seemed to empower his confidence to new heights. I need to end this quick and swift, hopefully, without much incident.

"My answer remains unchanged. _No_." That was the last stretch for me; I was going to have to bash his face in for him, do some adjustments to his "handsome" features. I could care less if the ladies got on my case later for it, it would be _worth _it.

"Emmett!" Tanya shouted in warning. I had not noticed her arrival and it quite startled me. I turned sharply in the direction of her voice; it was too panicked for my liking, only to find her flailing her arms wildly behind her. Following the direction of her flailing I realized what had alarmed her, who, Aro. He was on his way to join our little gathering, which, as I noted, was growing. This is _bad _news, having Aro around always is. I need to think, and _fast_.

Something like a growl echoed, furious and sudden, from Aro's direction. Instantly, everything seemed to slow to a crawl as our group erupted into a cannon and chaos overtook us. I was set into motion, rushing toward Caius. His fingers let go of Isabella's hair moments before we collided into a struggle of swift movements and connecting pummels.

It was intense. Blow-by-blow, move-by-move I met Caius, the air growing immensely tense as Aro drew nearer. And then I found my opening, as my fist connected with Caius' face I heard the sound of his nose breaking before blood stained my tightly knotted fist and sprayed my clothing. The sound of his fear and pain resonated welcomingly in my ears as he cradled his bleeding nose in agony. A barbaric smile broke my lips into a lopsided crescent.

My mother was going to be _very_ furious with me.

The sound of scurrying feet wrenched my attention from the satisfying bloody seen before me to see the crowd disperse at the arrival of Aro, who brought more onlookers with him. He looked at me, dead in the eye and motioned me forward. Defiantly, I straightened and squared my shoulders, jutting my chin forward and gave my back to him.

Silence fell. Curses were muttered at my impudence. A hushed murmur grew as the new crowed took notice of Caius' form, bleeding crimson on the green grass. Blood for blood, I thought. I could barely see Isabella from the corner of my eye, but I knew she was crying with eyes shut tight, her body quivering, like a leaf in the unrelenting wind.

"Take him to the infirmary," I croaked, directing my words to Aro. I bit back a curse as I took notice of my quivering voice, I needed to be brave. Soon, my friends would come with a governess in tow and everything would be solved. Steeling myself I approached Isabella from behind, making my intentions know, as not to startle her.

Isabella tensed at my approach and her breathing came ragged as a jolt went through her, momentarily halting me, and her head bowed.

"Emmett, perhaps you shan't?" Tanya suggested, her hand wrapping around my forearm. I frowned and stared at the touch. It felt foreign and obtrusive. "Let me…"

"She is covered in blood," I replied simply. Shaking out of her touch, going beyond her reach I continued forward.

Knowing that Aro and all those he had brought with him were watching me, I dared not look back as I stopped inches from Isabella Swan. All I had to do was reach out and touch her, something that I almost did not dare do. She looked so… _frail_.

"Yes, but–" Tanya tried to argue. And my hand moved to touch Isabella of its own will. I watched in astounded fascination as my palm and her small shoulder made contact, it was like watching something inevitable and not being able to do anything to alter its course. A beautiful and terrifying sight that I could not tear my eyes from awaited me.

The paralyzed, immobilized Isabella Swan was suddenly in motion and I held my breath as the sight of her. She was threadbare to immodesty, shaken by her fear, and so breathtakingly beautiful that the sight of her felt more like a dream than anything I had ever experienced. I found myself desperately wishing she were real and practically blushing with the sudden fluster of the situation.

The smell of blood that oozed from her tattered self alerted me to the reality of the situation, however. Without thinking, I found that I was smiling. A true smile at that, it caught me off-air, I had not smiled in months. And then, all too sudden and unprecedented, I was being attacked by the threadbare, shaken, and beautiful form that was Isabella Swan.

This must be quite the comical sight, I could not help but think, her so frail and small, and I being so brawny and hefty.

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><p><em><strong>AN: **Kind of a long chapter, even for me... __Thank you all for reading and for the great response that you have given this story, got me all excited. I would have updated sooner but I had not had the time. Please, kindly Review and let me know what you think thus far –next chapter's teaser for those who do! Reviews keep me going! Next... writing more Memoirs!_


	3. From the Pages of Ms Swan's Mind 1

_**From the pages of Isabella Swan's Mind #1**_

Do I run or do I stay?

I have asked myself this very question on numerous occasions for the past ten consecutive years. After waking in a sweat from my constant restless nightmares, my frozen screams caught deep in my throat drowning out the sound of my sorrow.

Day in and day out, night after night I hold on to this ache, living in a world so cold, all for a chance to find an out for myself. To just, stop being me.

I have always known heartache and pain, but I have never known pain like this. The agony I am in right now cannot compare to any of my past agonies. My eyes are open to the brightness of life. Finding it hard to exist when I stand alone defending my name, and running into myself as I hope to find someone else, knowing that my fears alone control me.

All this time, being whom I am, my hardened heart dwelling in its cold throne only to realize, this heart is not my possession. He took advantage of the nice, naïve, and the beautiful girl until he destroyed me beyond repair. Never to be whole or loved.

No one has seen the softest part of me; I will not budge to show this secret place where thoughts of you and how you have saved me plague my mind.

"You were, no, you _are_ so nice, naive and beautiful."

All I have done is fail, is it so wrong to be who we are?

"Why did I get taken advantage of?" I would ask out in desperation.

"Because we are all dealt our lumps of coal and, if we are wise, depending on what you do with them, you can turn them into something beautiful," would come his calm and collected reply and I would find myself believing and hoping once again.

I was frozen in a fragile world of make believe and empty lies, before I was driven by a force so free to live this life, not paralyzed but with reckless abandon. Dressed in the rules of a virtuous game, afraid to cry, suffocated for trying to scream.

When all I do may fall away, when all I know decays in vain, and all I measure turns to dust and I am left alone again, should I believe or should I doubt? I believed in the things that you never told me, in the things that you never showed me.

"Well, is it so wrong to hang on to hurt?" I would question.

When put in my position, if you could see my fear, will you say that this is more than a superstition or will you hold tight to your convictions? Those aggressive passive inhibitions, temptations, and opinions, lacking faith in what I trust as they laugh before indecision.

"Maybe you could set it free," he would challenge, "there's still some life outside of this madness, darlin'. I believe _you _can find it."

Sometime in between, you taught me that there is a face that holds a story behind every single scar. I have stood in your shadow, never walking away, even when I was afraid, and that is how you hold my heart captive.

I need the tears inside to dry. I want _more_ than just to try and love you.

_Are you willing to take ownership? _I wish to ask. Only, I am too afraid to ask.

_Isabella Swan_

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><p><strong><em>AN: This is NOT a chapter as you can see. However, this is a little something I will be attempting to post every three to four chapters. It's like a page from Bella's Journal._**

**_Thank you for continuing to read. I have two more chapters soon to be published that I wish to fully beta before I post them, so bear with me a little longer, here is this for the meanwhile. Hope you enjoyed it. Please, drop me some reviews, it shows you care and might earn earlier posting!_**

**_Kinesi _**


	4. A Beastly and Beautiful Synthesis

_**Previously:**_

_The smell of blood that oozed from her tattered self alerted me to the reality of the situation, however. Without thinking, I found that I was smiling. A true smile at that, it caught me off-air, I had not smiled in months. And then, all too sudden and unprecedented, I was being attacked by the threadbare, shaken, and beautiful form that was Isabella Swan. _

_This must be quite the comical sight, I could not help but think, her so frail and small, and I being so brawny and hefty._

* * *

><p><strong>Captured by the Code of Fear<strong>

**A Beastly and Beautiful Synthesis **

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

1861

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mr. McCarty's POV<strong>_

A guttural groan shattered the air and congealed all movement into suspension. Before I knew what was happening, all I saw was a flurry of dark tresses flowing wildly behind the hurriedly moving form of one little Isabella Swan, when she approached me and attacked...

Everything was happening much too quickly for the comprehension of my eleven-year-old brain to fully process. One moment I was blushing at the thought of having thought of a _girl _as being _beautiful_ and then, said beautiful girl, was grating my face into fine bloody ribbons with her own two, small, hands.

Someone was screaming. Perhaps it was I, or even Tanya.

My astonished awe was so great, given the turn of events, that it even surpassed the pain. How could someone so _small_ have so much strength and rage bottled up? It exceeded my reasoning.

But here she was, Isabella Swan, tearing my face to disfigurement and I could not summon an ounce of panic to my disposition.

It was quite terrifying.

I found myself taking a step back and Isabella matched my every step, not letting me get away. Though, by now, someone was attempting to extricate her from me, she would not relent.

Shouts were roaring all around us, rushing like the rapid scuttle of a riverbed over rocks. However, Isabella would not be deterred from her frenzied single-mindedness, she kept tearing at my face and anything she could reach with her sharp nails.

Her face twisted into such a beastly expression that it failed to register in my mind that it should have been impossible for someone, anyone, much less a child should be capable of mustering such aberrant appearance. Even so, I found her in beauty, quite _beastly_.

The imagery suited her as well as smiles and vociferous laughs suited me. My mind could not help but delve into what could have happened to her that could procure such _raw_ rage to be summoned by someone so young as she. I needed to know how to gain her confidence. I _needed_ to learn her story, come what may.

And then, I was _laughing_.

Disbelief predominated the ambiance heavily.

The situation was so absurd that it was the only thing it warranted –a good laugh. My laughter rang loud and clear, ceasing all commotion with its suddenness. Abruptly, my laughter brought Isabella Swan to an astonished halt as she surveyed me, disbelief showing the whites of her stunned yet, gentle brown eyes.

Her eyes took inventory of her handiworks and widened further with horror and she began to tremble in a manner that made her seem like she was a crumbling figure. I felt her scream build and die in her throat as she began to tremble, staring at the blood that stained her fingers and covered the underside of her nails –_my_ blood.

Sometime, during the proceeding, I must have made a sound because suddenly, her swimming eyes were staring into mine with such sorrow and abhorred horror that it tore at my soul, bordering suffocation. She was beginning to look sick, her retch reflex beginning to constrict her throat with the effort she was putting into keeping her stirring bile at bay.

I wanted to protect her.

"What happened here?" a voice I vaguely recognized as belonging to Mrs. Clearwater demanded, hoarse with shock. I presumed it was mainly the sight of the two of us bleeding, in Isabella's case, covered in blood, which had worked her into such a state. I do not believe I have ever been more relieved to hear my governess voice before than at this moment.

All at once, every voice around us broke into a cacophony of senseless chatter, trying to relay a recount of the hour's occurrences. There were too many voices trying to be heard simultaneously and Isabella seemed affected by the sudden outburst as she cowered against me, her hands in a claw, palms flat, covering her ears desperately.

"It was her–"

"Miss Swan?"

"So the rumors are true?"

"Yes…"

"Did you see her? She–"

"_No…_"

"Isabella, she–"

"The little _Witch_ did that to him–"

"After McCarty rescued her too–"

"Unbelievable!"

"Yes, I saw her with my own eyes–"

"Me too–"

"That is no way to repay him!"

"It is not like that!"

"How unsightly."

"No!"

"I would say…"

"Look at her, playing the victim–"

"Stop it!"

"_Disgusting._"

"Ungrateful!"

"_Witch!_"

The voices were all disgusted and contemptuous in their judging.

I _need _to protect her, I concluded.

"But why is _she _bleeding?"

"How did it happen?"

"Would you just listen–"

"She was like that when we got here…"

"That shan't matter now, should it?"

"She is the one in the wrong."

"No, she–" Tanya was trying to argue. "It was them, C–"

"Quiet!" Mrs. Clearwater instructed in a quiet but clear voice that raised above the chaos. "There is no need for all of you to speak at once." The chatter instantly quieted to a rustle followed by faint protests that quickly died.

"Mrs. Clearwater?" Though I had not intended to, the words had escaped me. I had been quiet until then. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Clearwater turned her attention back to Isabella and me, who was desperately trying to put some distance between us. "I–" My words died in my lips before I could get them out at the look Mrs. Clearwater gave me, one that told me to speak only if and when I was being spoken to.

It was then her eyes took in the tattered and trembling form of Isabella Swan, who was still struggling on unsteady feet to get away from me, and she moved to kneel before her. Isabella was jolted by Mrs. Clearwater's sudden nearness and flinched away from her gentle touch and kind words, only to turn to me, pressed against my body.

Her eyes widened, giving her a cornered look. Looking defeated, Isabella bunched the front of my shirt into her small fists and clung to me as she silently sobbed and her knees practically gave out on her, before I caught her.

With kind and calming words Mrs. Clearwater drew closer to Isabella, gaining her trust. Taking advantage of her progress, Mrs. Clearwater took inventory of Isabella's cuts and bruises. Seemingly satisfied that the damage was not as bad as it looked, her attention turned to me once again.

"Explain this instant," she demanded, "_Emmett McCarty_, what happened here?" I shuffled in place; my full name on anyone's lips was never a good sign. Besides, I had never heard Mrs. Clearwater speak like this to anyone before. She sounded stern and detached. It made me nervous and fidgety. Therefore, I found myself at a loss, not knowing where to begin.

"Emmett did not do this," Tanya motioned to Isabella then, "_if _that is where you are getting at, Mrs. Clearwater," she finished, indignant by the mere thought, disbelief dominating her demeanor. A great deal of ferocious protectiveness presented itself as well, as Tanya stared at our teacher with a challenge in her storming stare. "It was all Cai–"

"Thank you, Miss Denali, for those enlightening words," Mrs. Clearwater interrupted, without looking at her, "but I do believe, correct me if I am wrong, that I was addressing Mr. McCarty."

"Yes, but–"

She turned to look at Tanya, who had acquired a tint of rouge on her cheeks from embarrassment. "And I do believe he is more than capable of answering for himself, when spoken to," she continued, as if Tanya had never made an attempt at interrupting. "Now, Emmett, do explain yourself."

Her words were kinder now, wanting to understand the situation than to accuse. The crowd grew further still, if possible. A breeze whispered by with its easy playfulness, rustling through drying leaves and unruly tresses, intrigued by our silence and stillness, enough to also still with curiosity.

I swallowed.

Even though I wanted to tell her everything, there were just too many eyes, too many eager onlookers waiting on my next words with bated breath.

"I did not do this to her," I began hesitantly, needing Mrs. Clearwater to know of my innocence in that department. "Though, I probably broke Caius' nose," I admitted and could not help the smirk that pulled at the corner of my lips, in spite of the situation.

"I believe you, please, proceed." Mrs. Clearwater stared at me, knowing that there should be more of my story than I was giving her. I noted that Isabella looked considerably calmer as she clung to Mrs. Clearwater; the sight of her at ease also eased me.

I cleared my throat, focusing only on what I could see of her to affix my nerves and rising anger.

"Tanya came to get me, you see, while at the canteen. She looked very distressed, and believed Miss Swan," I nodded to Isabella then and she stiffened, I frowned and continued, "was in some kind of danger."

"What kind of danger, Mr. McCarty?"

"That is the thing, Mrs. Clearwater, she did not stop to explain, Tanya, that is," I tried to explain. "The only option I had at the moment was to follow her. And therefore, I did and she lead us out here."

"Did Miss Denali then, when you followed her, explain what the situation was?"

"Roughly," I nodded. "But everything was quite self-explanatory once I saw Caius and his group in a circle around Miss Swan, taunting her."

"And did you happen assess the situation, before barging in and giving Mr. Lezinan a bloody nose?" She inquired calmly.

"I tried to reason with him, yes," I gritted out. "He just would not hear any of it. Just kept on rambling about welcoming Miss Swan, who was all bloodied up at his feet." Mrs. Clearwater frowned at this. A collective murmur went around us with unfounded disagreement, reminding me of our audience. Only, they knew the consequences for going against Aro where severe when it came to status. "And, mind you, he was pulling _on her_ _hair_, forcing her to look at him."

"Barbaric," she mumbled, hugging Isabella closer. I could not agree more. "Anyone has anything else to add to Mr. McCarty's testimony?" An uneasy shuffle seemed to sway our audience but none spoke, to contradict her or otherwise. "Very well, please, continue," Mrs. Clearwater, urged.

I recounted what had happened to Mrs. Clearwater, up until the moment she intervened with as much detail as possible without leaving anything out –not even my own act of violence. "And if anyone here dared, they would not tell you otherwise, Mrs. Clearwater," I added, staring everyone else down.

"Thank you, Mr. McCarty for your very detailed recount of event. Is there anything else anyone _other_ than Mr. Daedalus?" Mrs. Clearwater inquired pointedly, noting that Caius seemed inclined on interrupting. "No? Very well, McCarty, Daedalus, Denali, and Miss Swan, follow me. We shall discuss this further inside. The rest of you are dismissed. However, this does not mean you are exempt; I might call on some of you before the day is over. Now, get to class, all of you." We watched as the rest of the gathered students scattered and left us behind without a word. Wordlessly Miss Swan and I exchanged glances as she surveyed the damage she had inflicted upon me. "The four of you, please follow me," Mrs. Clearwater instructed as she took a firm hold of Caius, with Isabella still at her other side and started walking, knowing that neither Tanya, nor I, would dare disobey. "We need to attend to both Miss Swan and Mr. McCarty's wounds before anything. Therefore, a call to Dr. Cullen is in order, I presume."

"Mrs. Clearwater!" came the anxious voice of a fellow instructor. "Is there anything I can do to assist you?" he offered as he approached us.

"Thank you Mr. Varner, that would be most helpful. If you would be so kind, send word for Dr. Cullen and let him know he is needed here, two of our students are injured," Mrs. Clearwater instructed. Isabella seemed to stir at the mention of the doctor, peaking my curiosity. "Also, please try to get a hold of Mr. Whitlock, I believe Miss Swan might like to go home for the day. It has been a rough one for her."

My brow furrowed. What did Mr. Whitlock have to do with Isabella Swan? He was a man of large fortune; therefore, I was familiar with his name. Like so many others before him, he was the talk of the entire town due to his abundant wealth, but I could not remember if Miss Swan's name had ever been mentioned as tied to his.

"Of course, I will do so immediately," said Mr. Varner as he set out to do as instructed. "However, I do believe Dr. Cullen has all ready been contacted, leaving Mr. Whitlock."

"Then Dr. Cullen and Mr. Whitlock will be sure to find us in the Headmaster's office, if that is the case," Mrs. Clearwater called after Mr. Varner's retreating form.

* * *

><p><strong><em>OoO<em>**

* * *

><p>When we arrived at the Headmaster's office, Dr. Cullen was already inside deep in conversation with Mr. Paasio.<p>

"My apologies, Carlisle, but I have yet to fully be informed of what has transpired within my grounds," Mr. Paasio was saying. "I have been informed that Mrs. Clearwater is on her way with the two injured students and two other."

"I see, thank you, Aulis," said Dr. Carlisle. "I do hope they arrive promptly. With any kind of wounds it is preferable to have immediate medical attention."

"Pardon the interruption, Mr. Paasio, Dr. Cullen," Mrs. Clearwater interrupted with a gentle knock.

"Ah! Here they are," said Mr. Paasio. "Do come in Mrs. Clearwater, children." Dr. Carlisle turned to us and his expert eyes quickly surveyed both Miss Swan and I with slight apprehension.

"Isabella…" Dr. Carlisle said, in a way that was intimate. "Bella, sweetheart, are you all right, where does it hurt?" Dr. Carlisle approached Isabella cautiously as I looked at her for any sort of reaction. Isabella stirred and looked to Dr. Cullen, looking relieved as she let go of Mrs. Clearwater's hand and dove into Dr. Cullen's welcoming embrace.

"Mrs. Clearwater, what is the situation here?" the Headmaster, Mr. Paasio, asked. "Please, do explain in detail."

I tuned out as Mrs. Clearwater began to tell her own account of events from what I had informed her and tuned back into Dr. Cullen and Isabella's interaction.

"Will you not show me, sweet Bella, where it hurts most?" Miss Swan pointed at her very bloodied and scrapped knees and quietly sobbed. Dr. Cullen said comforting words to her and held her, while drying her tears. Cleaning her wounds, the doctor set to work, getting everything he needed, from ointments to bandages within his black leather bag.

"You know her?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"Emmett McCarty!" Mrs. Clearwater reprimanded, appalled. I cringed away from her, I was not about to get my ears pulled on.

"My apologies," I corrected, "What I meant was, do you know Miss Swan, Dr. Cullen, personally?"

Dr. Cullen stared solemnly at me a long moment before he nodded and responded, "As it happens, I do, Emmett. Right, Bella?" _'Bella'_, as he called her, nodded timidly and chanced a glance at me. "But what is it to you, Mr. McCarty, if you do not mind my asking?"

"N-Nothing," I replied, feeling slightly abashed by his scrutiny as I flushed lightly and shuffled in place. Suddenly, I became _very_ aware of the different patterns cracked onto the wooden floor and the carpet that dominated the center of the room. Which made me all too aware of my aches and pains, slashed all across my face. That was what the Doctor had been staring at, I realized, feeling relieved for some reason.

"Sit here, Bella, careful of your bandages. Jasper should be here shortly." I heard Dr. Cullen's calm voice instruct. Still, I dared not look at him as I peaked sideways at the Headmaster and Mrs. Clearwater.

"Miss Cope?" the Headmaster called as his secretary appeared in the doorway.

"Yes, Mr. Paasio?"

"Please, contact Mr. Daedalus, I would like to have a word with him in regards to his son and his questionable upbringing."

"Most certainly, Mr. Paasio," Miss Cope said, dismissing herself.

"Caius Daedalus, I shall have a word with your father, young man, and come up with a suitable punishment for your misdemeanor today. This _cannot_ go on. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Caius gritted out.

"For the meantime, also, I would like for you to refrain from being seen with my son. I shall also see to it that he knows not to approach you. You shall _both_ be held accountable, were this conditions not to be met. Is that, also, understood, Caius?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Paaiso."

"Now, I believe you owe Miss Swan and Mr. McCarty an apology. Apologize," Mr. Paaiso instructed indifferently.

"But, Sir, McCarty was the one who–"

"Caius, your time for explaining yourself has come and passed." Mr. Paaiso interrupted with controlled sullenness. "All I need from you right now is for you to apologize to your two classmates, whom you have wronged. Do not make me ask this of you again. Apologize, _now_."

With clenched fist at his side and a very sour look on his face, Caius turned to Isabella and I, and apologized insincerely. "Oh, and Miss Swan?" Isabella stiffened. Caius added maliciously with a smirk, "Nice improvement on McCarty's face. I never thought it would be possible, but you somehow managed."

"Very well, that is enough!" Mr. Paaiso said irately. I agreed, I was fuming! "Go have a sit outside and wait for your father's arrival. He will not be pleased with you, so I suggest you take time to reflect. You are dismissed!"

"Yes, Sir. Please, do excuse me," Caius said, bowing lowly so he could hide that triumphant smirk plastered across that face of his. "Once again, my apologies McCarty, Miss Swan." And with that, he exited the room, leaving me in a silent rage.

"Emmett," Dr. Cullen called me quietly. I turned to him and blinked, staring dumbly at him as he beckoned me.

"Yes?" I said uncertainly.

"Please, have a sit," Dr. Cullen said, motioning to the same chair upon which Isabella was sited. "Come, sit, it is your turn to be treated. Bella will not mind sharing. Right, sweetheart?" Isabella shook her head, showing that, no, she would not mind sharing her sit with me.

"Oh…" I sat as instructed, feeling a little nervous by our close proximity. However, it seemed Isabella was just as concerned as she slid to the furthermost corner the chair would allow, and away from me. I sighed, resigned, perhaps it is not meant to be.

"It looks like Isabella did a number on you," Dr. Cullen observed, looking sideways at the fidgeting Isabella as he began to dab and clean my wounds, making me grimace.

From the corner of my eye, I observed as Isabella fidgeted until she pulled out what looked to be a leather journal and opened it, and scribbled something on its pages. Looking away, I gave her some privacy.

"Is it really bad?" I asked Dr. Cullen, slightly nervous.

"Not for the most part…" he responded with a critical eye, surveying my face as a whole. "Still, there might be some scarring. But I will do my best to minimize the damage."

"Thank you," I said quietly, when I felt a light tugging on my left arm. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I noted that Isabella was the one doing the tugging and trying to hand me her journal with a trembling hand.

"Looks like Miss Swan wants to tell you something," Dr. Cullen guessed and Isabella nodded, blushing lightly. Gingerly, I took the journal out of her trembling hands and read the words inside, '_Sorry, I did not mean to hurt you_.'

Suddenly, understanding seemed to dawn on me as I stared at her scribbled apology and I could not help but smile at her.

"All set Emmett," Dr. Cullen announced. "I would like to see you every two days, to make sure your wounds are healing properly. Meanwhile, ask your mother to change your bandages every day. Understood?"

"Yes, Dr. Cullen," I replied, smiling brightly at the doctor, before turning to Isabella. Silently and carefully, I reached out my hand to her, palm up, asking for her pencil. Momentary confusion caused Isabella to just frown and stare at me, before she handed over her pencil, hiding her sudden blush behind her curtain of pretty hair.

With a slight smile, I wrote back, _'No need to apologize. There was no way for you to know that I was there to help. My name is Emmett McCarty, by the way. Nice to meet you Ms. Isabella Swan.' _Slightly nervous and hoping that my response was all right and legible, I returned Isabella her journal and watched as she carefully read my words with a bashful smile.

"Now, my job here is done, Isabella, Mr. McCarty, Mrs. Clearwater, Mr. Raasio, if you would excuse me. I would like to be on my way, but not before I take a look at young Daedalus, of course," Dr. Carlisle excused himself.

"Very well, thank you, Carlisle, please do," the Headmaster acknowledged. "Until next time." With that, Dr. Cullen bid his last farewells and the rest of us, being Tanya and I (since Isabella could not speak), where excessively interrogated by Mr. Raasio, until a knock on the door interrupted him.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster Raaiso," said the young gentleman that had interrupted. "I do apologize for the intrusion, but I was summoned. I am here for Miss Swan." Interested, I took in his appearance. He was tall, blond hair could be seen under his tall hat, was dressed handsomely, had some kind of accent, and looked too young to be her father. I was not impressed, all right, maybe a _little_.

"Ah… Greetings young man," greeted Mr. Raaiso, "you must be Mr. Whitlock, I take it?"

"Yes," Mr. Whitlock asserted. "Where have my manners gone? I am Jasper Whitlock, pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Raaiso."

"Same, same. Do come in, Mr. Whitlock. Miss Swan is, if a little rattled, safe and sound," Mr. Raasio welcomed. Jasper Whitlock did as he was bid and stepped into sight, making a slightly flushed Mrs. Clearwater swoon in admiration. I, on the other hand, was not convinced in the slightest. I stared warily at the gentleman as he surveyed the room until his eyes, full of concern, landed on Isabella.

For the second time that day, I saw a glimpse of chocolate brown hair dashing past and billowing behind the running form of Isabella Swan. Only, this time, her feet where taking her to the man that had just appeared in the doorway –and as she jumped into his arms, she _did not _attack him, rather, she embraced him.

I felt myself relax, knowing that she felt safe.

"Bella, Bella, my sweetheart, are you all right?" Mr. Whitlock asked quietly, holding Isabella tightly to himself. "Show me where you are hurt?" he begged. "Carlisle said he –hush, darlin', there's no need to cry…" Isabella was crying once again, but instead of the unease her tears had brought in me before, I felt calm.

Somehow, I knew this Mr. Whitlock would make it all go away for her. And sure enough, within minutes, silently but with more liveliness than I had seen from her thus far, she was showing Mr. Whitlock where all her hurts where and he was kissing each and every single one of them, while she silently giggled, clearly amused.

"Dr. Cullen tended to all her wounds," Mrs. Clearwater supplied, looking to the pair of them with shining, dreamy eyes. "He also tended to Mr. McCarty's wounds, who helped Isabella, along with Miss Denali." At the mention of my name, I stood from the chair and stood sharper than normal as to not fidget under the scrutiny of Mr. Whitlock's gaze.

With Isabella still in his arms, Mr. Whitlock stepped further into the room, until he was standing right before me. I looked up at him, gaze unwavering, heart pounding as he looked down at me and stretched out his hand. "Thank you, Mr. McCarty," Mr. Whitlock thanked sincerely while shaking my hand. "Can I count on you in the future? I have a feeling this will not be a one time thing."

"Certainly, Sir," I said with vigor. Instantly, he had won me over, I admit. _I am too easily won over_, I fleetingly thought. "Though, I do hope my assistance shan't be needed."

"As do I," he sighed. "What do you think, Bella, is the best way to thank Mr. McCarty and Miss Denali? Shall we invite them for supper tomorrow?" Isabella shook her head in a negative and my heart sank. "Now, now, Bella, that is no way to show thanks," Mr. Whitlock chastised. Bella blushed. "Please, Miss Denali, Mr. McCarty, do join the Whitlock residence for supper tomorrow for a token of our gratitude."

My hope was not entirely extinguished, after all. I had to find a way to win her trust. There had to be a way, there just had to be some sort of way.

"How splendid!" Mrs. Clearwater exclaimed.

"Most graciously, Sir," Tanya accepted. "Emmett and I shall be there tomorrow when you call for us."

"What a well mannered young lady," Mr. Whitlock observed, causing Tanya to flush lightly as she curtsy. "I shall be counting on you as well."

"Thank you, Sir. Most certainly, we would be honored to."

"Mr. Raaiso, I would like to take Isabella home, but before that, I would like a detailed account of the events that lead up to my Isabella ending up in this state," Mr. Whitlock said in a no nonsense sort of manner, changing the atmosphere drastically.

"O-of course," stuttered Mr. Raaiso "I shall have my secretary, Miss Cope, with the help of Mrs. Clearwater, write the details for you today and one of my men will personally deliver it to you before supper today."

"That will be satisfactory," Mr. Whitlock accepted. "I hope you tend to all precautionary measures to assure that something like this does _not _happen again."

"Most certainly, Mr. Whitlock. After all, you are one of our most generous patrons." So that was why Mr. Raaiso was acting so subdued.

"Please, be sure to never forget that," Mr. Whitlock said calmly with a dangerous edge to his voice and a mellowed, murderous glint to his glare that made Mr. Raaiso fidget in his high chair. "Now, good day, gentlemen, ladies," he said with a dip of his hat.

To say I was in awe of Mr. Whitlock would be a poor account of how I felt in that moment as I watched him exit the room, looking proud and tall, even with Isabella in his arms.

_I cannot wait for tomorrow_, I thought as Tanya and I were dismissed and Caius' angry looking father, Mr. Daedalus, was called in. _So glad I am not Caius. Still, I cannot wait for tomorrow, bring what may._

As I stood to leave, I noted that Isabella had left behind her journal and as I grabbed it, intent on returning it, an idea occurred to me.

My way of earning Isabella Swan's trust was through ink and paper, all I had to do was write her a letter. _Easier said than done._ I sighed, feeling slightly discouraged. I was not very good with words, much less with the written word. Fretting that I could not get my meaning across to her through words alone, I resolved that I would not give up until I did.

"Are you all right, Emmett," Tanya asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes," I assured her. "Just thinking."

"You have been doing loads of that lately," she observed. "It is not like you."

"Perhaps it is," I countered with a mischievous smirk.

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><p><em><strong>AN: **__Reviews make a happy author out of me, and a happy author makes for a speedy update. All I'm saying is, PLEASE REVIEW!_


	5. A Beautiful Mess

_**Previously:**_

_My way of earning Isabella Swan's trust was through ink and paper, all I had to do was write her a letter. Easier said than done. I sighed, feeling slightly discouraged. I was not very good with words, much less with the written word. Fretting that I could not get my meaning across to her through words alone, I resolved that I would not give up until I did. _

"_Are you all right, Emmett," Tanya asked, sounding concerned. _

"_Yes," I assured her. "Just thinking."_

"_You have been doing loads of that lately," she observed. "It is not like you."_

"_Perhaps it is," I countered with a mischievous smirk._

* * *

><p><strong>Captured by the Code of Fear<strong>

** A Beautiful Mess**

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

1871

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mr. Whitlock's POV<strong>_

I was an eighteen year old, troubled gentleman, the day I met the little young lady that changed my world and my empty life forever. Filling it with unending days of bliss and love, above all.

It all happened on my way home from visiting my sister at the hospital, a day like any other. My hat had been set low on my eyes and too many thoughts roamed inside my head, when I stumbled upon quite an unpleasant assembly…

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

September of 1861

* * *

><p>The smell of fire permeated the air and the overwhelming stench of burnt wood attacked my senses as I drew nearer. Though I had become aware of the odor a mile away, it was now intensified to an almost unbearable degree. There was something else in the air, something <em>more<em> sinister than the smell of sulfur that made it heavier somehow, acrid.

Swiftly, I roamed my eyes over the gathered crowd, trying to find a rout that would allow me to pass unnoticed. When, suddenly, I felt something attach itself rather forcefully onto my right leg without breaking my stride.

Startled, I looked down to find a pair of vulnerable, large brown eyes staring up at me. Furthering my surprise, I took note that it was a young girl holding fast to me. Her face stained ashen with soot and streaked by tears. Concerned, I took further notice of her appearance to find her hair and parts of her skin burnt. Otherwise, she looked physically unharmed.

Furthermore, she was dressed in an equally burnt and tattered dress that must have once looked pretty on her, but now revealed too much of her yet undeveloped body. She had a terrified and pleading look in her eyes that tore at my soul and made my heart ache for her, as I noted the pain that plagued her soul behind her honest, wide eyes that opened up to me the moment I looked, really looked into them.

"Hello there darlin', you lost?" I whispered to her, offering a tentative smile despite my startled state. Her eyes widened further as her grip tightened and she trembled at the small gesture of my hand lifting to wipe away her soot and tearstained face. "I shan't hurt you, I shall help you," I promised. "But you know, little darlin', you really should not take to strangers so hastily. Not everyone around these parts is as honest a gentleman as I." I honestly thought the warning was forthcoming of the situation, perhaps she would learn something. "Now, where is your mamma?"

The child went completely stiff at the mention of her mother, perplexing me further. She shook her head in a negative. "What has happened here?" I inquired, unable to help myself and alerting the gathered group of my presence. Several men turned at the sound of my voice looking rattled, though a few other seemed to have been aware of my presence prior to my making myself known.

"This matter is of no importance to you, boy. You are an outsider; from the sound of it you have no business being here. Now, hurry home the same way you came," said a man at the very center of the group spitefully. Some murmured their agreement, while others, some of the younger assembled looked to me with slight curiosity, and a much lesser group became aware of the child anchored to my leg.

"This child has made it my concern," I said calmly, bringing my attention to the suddenly stiff child still holding fast onto me, "seeing how she has come to me."

The entire assembly's eyes turned in unison to look at the little, frightened girl and their eyes immediately turned frightened, cold, and judgmental in the span of diminutive instants. I could not blame the child as she attempted to hide her face and melt into me without letting go of the comfort my nearness and acceptance brought her.

"Get away from her, she will curse you too!" someone I could not see cried from the back of the group and many others murmured their agreement rather vehemently.

I frowned, looking at the terrified child clinging onto me so desperately. She looked so innocent, too vulnerable for me to turn a blind eye and walk away.

I felt a cold chill go up and down my spine as she looked into my eyes with such raw earnest that the wall that was normally put in place to keep others from getting too close to me began to unwind at the seams, letting her in.

Then, there was a moment, only a moment, in which I just knew what her eyes were telling me. _Help me_, they seemed to beg. I had never known anyone who could break through my defenses with so little effort. Everything about this child seemed effortless as I looked once more into her twin pools of coffee, like open doors.

My own eyes steeled as I looked at the crowd before me once more. My thoughts were becoming nonsensical, only agreeing on one thing; protect the child. Not knowing what I was about to get into, but knowing that I would dive into it headfirst I squared my shoulders, readying myself for what was to come.

"Who are you boy, do you even know this child or her crimes?" sneered another man, as unpleasant as the former. "If that is the case, take her away from here and deal with her yourself."

"Take her, take her!" chanted the crowed, their cry scaling in volume and strength, like a storming wave.

"She is bad luck and we do not want anything to do with the kind of misfortune she attracts," the same man spat, literarily.

"No, I do not know this child," I began, failing to keep my disgust from showing on my face. "However, I do believe, it is proper etiquette to introduce oneself, before requesting another's name, my fellow gentleman," I added curtly, tilting my hat to the repulsive man, who suddenly turned an unsightly shade of puce.

"How dare you–"

"Bite your tongue, Biers," interrupted another man.

"Black, you stay out of this!" Mr. Biers' seethed, "That was a direct insult!"

"Fool, open your eyes!" Mr. Black hissed impatiently and quite bluntly. "Can you not see his status by looking at him?" I could not help but smirk, satisfied that there was at least one man with sensibility. I stood tall and proud as Mr. Biers looked at me with a critical eye and all too suddenly, he looked unhealthily sweaty and ashen. My smirk deepened along with my satisfaction.

"Well, Mr. Biers, is it? Cannot say it is a pleasure to meet you, my mamma raised me an honest man, my apologies," I taunted and it took all of Mr. Biers not to growl at me. "On the other hand, Mr. Black, I am Mr. Whitlock." There were a few murmurs and gasps at this revelation. I was new in town, but my name was steadily becoming well known.

"Then, I suggest you leave this matter to us, your elders, and hurry home to your fortune, young Master Whitlock," said Mr. Biers with some semblance of forced respect. "Someone of your stature has no need of dirtying his hands in our meager affairs. Now, the child…" The child in question had begun to tremble and an overwhelming sense of overprotection suddenly awoke within me and was taking over.

"Miss Swa–" Mr. Black beckoned, rather gently, to the child taking me by surprise, but I had to interrupt.

"I apologize, but I cannot do that," I said sternly as I gathered the child in my arms protectively. The little girl wrapped her little arms around my neck, holding steadfast. "I cannot turn a blind eye and walk away without knowing what fate awaits this innocent child."

"Innocent!" screeched a shrilling voice, piercing the night. Murmurs went all around the gathered crowd, disapproving. A shiver went down my spine, everything was too ominous.

"He knows not what he speaks of …he knows not!" they wailed and moaned.

Confusion rose within me, threatening to consume my slightly disintegrating sanity and I took a step back unconsciously. Still, I could not leave, I met Mr. Black's eyes with a silent challenge, but I only found a sad approval there as he stared between the child in my arms and me. So there was someone on her side after all, I was at least pleased by this. She still had a chance.

"Do you have any idea what you are getting involved with?" Mr. Biers inquired hotly.

"No," I answered honestly, if a little coldly, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. It probably sounded demented. "Now, will someone please tell me, what is this child's story? What are the known whereabouts of her family?"

"Young Master–" Mr. Black tried to interject once more and by the look on his face, I could tell that whatever he wanted to tell me was not something pleasant.

"Child he says! Pah!"

"Murderer is what _it_ is!"

"Murderer!"

"That is no child!"

"Demon child!"

"The devil's spawn!"

"Witch! That is what _it _is, a _Witch_!"

"_Witch_!"

Their clamor was a cacophony of ill contempt. Nothing of what they said made sense to me, much less their unrefined hate, it all just made the hairs stand upon my crawling skin.

"That _child_ in your arms killed her own family, burned them, their servants, and their house down," a man informed me none too kindly. His scorn filled eyes glaring directly at the suddenly tense child in my arms. "Therefore, I suggest you be wise and do not get yourself tangled by the likes of her."

"I will protect you," I whispered for this child's ears alone, reaffirming my earlier promise. She seemed to believe me as she relaxed her body in my arms but not her grip on my neck, still a trembling mess.

"What do you mean? Are you seriously suggesting that this _child _is a murderer?" I inquired out loud, dubiously.

"A murderer, a witch! What difference does it make?" a woman with flaming red hair cried, eyes wide, looking rabid and sounding hysterical. "She seduced a man and killed him, along with her own family!"

That was when I understood the state of her tattered dress. Some sick bastard had tried to touch this child, tried to rob her of her innocence. She had fought them off, teeth and nails, with everything she had and she had survived.

I was suddenly very proud of this child, and held her closer. Still, as proud as I was of her, I was just as disgusted with the people judging her and blaming her for the sick games of a lesser man trying to corrupt something so pure.

"My son was working for them," a woman sobbed. "Where is my son? Give him back, you killed him, now bring him back!"

"Madam, get a hold of yourself," someone implored of the woman, yet, she wailed louder still.

No matter what, I was going to protect her and her innocence.

"A witch!" someone spat and laughed hysterical as their cries echoed all through the group. One after another they spat upon the dirt on which they stood, soon after calling this unseemly child a _witch_.

"What kind of proof do you have for accusing this child of witchcraft?" I demanded furiously. I could feel my anger beginning to seethe under this calm exterior I was trying very hard to maintain. Lightly but surly, I felt her little hand burry into the soft curls at the back of my neck, as if she were trying to calm me with this simple gesture. My breath left me in a rush as I talked myself into a calmer state.

"She walked out of that burning house untouched, like nothing happened!" a new voice supplied. "What more proof do you need?"

_Untouched,_ were this people blind? Can they not see the haunted look that plague's this child? The tears that still stain her face, or the burns scattered over most of what the eye can see of her frail form?

"She smiled soon after…"

"As if she were holding on to a secret only she knew…"

"Only when we started to accuse her did she begin to cry those deceiving tears!"

"Deceiver!"

"_Witch_!"

I looked to Mr. Black hoping that he would open the eyes of everyone around him, but Mr. Black looked me straight in the eyes with his own black fathomless gaze and shook his head in shame. _They will only believe what they want, young one_, he seemed to tell me with all the sadness of these crowds' stubbornness weighing down on his shoulders.

"Do we have any present witnesses to this event?" I asked scornful with disgust. No one said anything. "Of course there are none," I muttered under my breath. "Anyone?" I attempted once more.

"No, Mr. Whitlock," a woman supplied quietly. "I just saw her coming out of the Swan's home long after the flames had overtaken the entire Swan residence, while we were still trying to contain the flames. She… she did not say anything, she just sat on the steps, rocking her body in a tight ball… whimpering and muttering things…"

"Witchcraft I tell you!" With much effort I pretended not to hear this comment.

"Has she no other family?" I asked quietly, thankful of the woman's sympathy for this child.

"None," supplied Mr. Black. "She is orphaned as of today."

"Is there anyone willing to help this child?" I inquired, knowing the answer beforehand.

"We do not want anything to do with a witch. Who knows what kind of misfortune she will bring with her into our homes. We do not wish to end up like her parents." It was unanimous.

"Then I shall extend my favor to her and offer her my hand." I sighed, bored with the matter already. All I wanted was to get home and have her settled and taken care of. Sure, I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew I would figure it out. I just need to get her away from here as soon as possible. "How would you like to become my family little one? I do believe there is room for one more," I asked Miss Swan quietly as she stared at me with wide frightened eyes.

"I really think you should reconsider, sire!" the man closest to me said forcefully.

"Why, did you have a change of heart? Are you planning to adopt her?" I questioned, but the man said nothing. I glared at him a while longer before turning my attention to Mr. Black, wondering why he was not willing to take her in.

I could tell he cared for her and it seemed the child in my arms shared some sort of love for the man as well, for her eyes were locked on his, a slight flush on her cheeks, the telltale sign of her reciprocation. Mr. Black smiled at her, nodding and she shied, hiding her face on the nook of my neck.

"You are too young, she will ruin your reputation, young Master, please, I beg of you, reconsider," another supplied and I glared at him too. I cared little for reputation, much less my own.

"I do not believe I should have the luxury of worrying about something as trivial as my reputation, when there is a _child_ in need, who just lost her only family today," I said sternly, causing some to look away in shame. Still, there was no change of heart, I could tell. I was _really _going to have to take this child home. "Now, what is this child's name? What is your name, darlin', Miss Swan?" I asked, looking at the child herself, hoping she would tell me.

"Do not bother," said a young woman with waist-long, black hair as she approached us, a friendly smile on her slightly marred, but beautiful face. "She has not spoken for hours now, since the fire. I believe she cannot, or refuses to for that matter. She used to speak quite fluently… and endlessly. You see, I am Emily Young, her governess," the woman explained in form of greeting.

"Emily, what are you doing?" a woman cried.

But Emily either did not hear her or chose to ignore her as she continued uninterrupted, "Her name is Isabella Swan and ...if your plan is to take charge of her, I would like to continue offering my services to young Mistress Swan." To say I was stunned would probably be considered an understatement. At first there were no takers and now they were volunteering? "I hope it is not too bold of me to ask this."

"Emily, mark my words, if you go with that man you have no home to return to," said a much firmer masculine voice. Her father, I presumed. Still, Miss Young paid him no mind.

"Emily!" a tall man with equally black hair said, stepping forth.

"Please do something, bring her back to us," cried the same woman as before, whom I presumed could only be her mother.

I saw Emily stiffen momentarily, but it was gone in an instant. She turned to face the gentleman as he finally reached her, giving her back to me. "I was praying I would not find you here, Emily. But alas…"

"Mr. Uley…" she began, sounding sad, but seeming to think it better and continued, "No, Sam, I owe her family too much. You of all people know that and should understand the reason for my being here. Besides, you do not really believe her capable of any of the things they are accusing her of doing." She reached out to Mr. Uley, touching his cheek delicately as he leaned into her touch, looking pained. "Sam, I need you to understand and respect my wishes, _please_. You more than anyone."

"I understand. I really do. I have nothing but respect when it comes to you, Emily, you know that," Mr. Uley said gently. "I just wish there was more I could do for you."

"I know Sam, you have done plenty. Thank you," she said, so radiant with gratefulness that I could not help but smile at the sight. "Besides, I love this child too much to leave her when she needs me most," she continued, turning to look at me and Miss Isabella Swan, "That is, if Mr. Whitlock will allow me to follow my Miss."

"Please, Mr. Whitlock, accept her wish," Mr. Uley said, turning his attention to me and offering a respectful tilt of his hat. "You might not find a finer governess if you overlook her offer, I can assure you."

"Sam…" Miss Young suddenly looked younger and shy as a delicate flush colored her high cheeks. Love. They were in love.

"I would gladly take you up on your offer, Miss Young. However, I do not wish to orchestrate you from the only home you know," I informed her.

"Please, do not worry about such a thing. This is my desire," Miss Young informed me resolutely.

"Then, I have a feeling I might just be in need of all the help I can get," I added honestly.

"Thank you," Emily said smiling widely. "Thank you so much, Mr. Whitlock. You shan't regret this."

"I am positive I shan't. However, I shall be looking to you for guidance in the future. Trust me when I say that it is my pleasure to have you."

"Sam did you hear that?" Miss Young said giddily, turning to Mr. Uley who smiled and stared at her lovingly.

"I did, Emily, I did," he said with sad contentment and held her close. Placing a chaste kiss upon her brow, he let her go.

Miss Young turned to me once more, looking eager, yet, composed, "Then, please, if you would excuse me? I would like to gather some of my belongings to bring with me. I do not wish to delay you if you intent to promptly part for home."

"That is my intention," I affirmed.

"Therefore, I shall hastily gather as much of my belongings as I can possible manage within such pressed time and promptly return."

"Of course," I allowed, "and if there is anything else you might need later that you were not able to take, I can send someone to gather them for you once we reach my residence."

"That would be most kind of you. Now, if you would excuse me," she said and curtsy. With that, Emily took her exit, taking Mr. Uley with her after he had further word with me, asking that I look after his Emily. Apparently, they were betrothed, as I had supposed.

"You cannot do this!" the assembled apposed, outraged.

"Quiet! It has been decided. Now, the hour is upon us, return to your homes." I was surprised to see that of all people Mr. Biers was the one to come to my defense. We exchanged glances in passing as my form of thanking the man.

"Please, take care of Isabella," said Mr. Black, approaching me once more and interrupting my staring Mr. Biers down. "And Emily too. I trust they are in good hands?"

"They will be in good hands," I promised. "Mr. Black, I would like to have a word?"

"Good, so would I, Mr. Whitlock."

"Then, I would hope that I am not being to bold by asking this but, I just need to ask. Why is it that you cannot take Ms. Swan in yourself, when you seem to care for her?" Mr. Black smiled at me sadly and in every fold of his slightly creased skin I could see the wisdom that only the passing of untold time could give someone.

"Because her staying here with us, and just here in general, would be a constant reminder of what she has lost," he explained kindly and I found myself understanding. "People here are not too kind, nor too forgiving. They never seem to forget. I am afraid you witnessed some of that today."

"I certainly did," I added bitterly.

Mr. Black nodded solemnly. "They will not allow her to forget. If she remains here, I am afraid she might never speak again if that happens. I do not want that for her. She has quite an extraordinary voice, too. Besides, I have my own family to think and take care of."

"I understand. I shall try my best to provide Miss Swan with a proper upbringing."

"If I may…" Mr. Black began cautiously. I nodded for him to continue. "Do not concern yourself with what is "proper" rather, give her what she needs. And right now, that will be your patience, concern, understanding, and if you find it in yourself to do so, your love."

"Yes, Sir," I said, thankful for the wise words. They seemed to give me a kind of warmth that set my mind at ease. Maybe I could do this after all. "I will do my best to provide her with that kind of environment."

"I hope, also, that it would not be too much trouble to ask that we keep in touch?" Mr. Black asked hopefully. "I would like to know of her progress. I hold Bella dear to my heart, since I was good friends with her father."

"By all means, Mr. Black," I assured him. "I am going to need all the help I can get, as I mentioned before. Rest assured, you will get updates from me on her recovery, at least weekly."

"I have a feeling you will do just fine," Mr. Black said, with something akin to an inkling shining in his black eyes. "And one more thing, she prefers to answer to the name of Bella. She… can be a little strong headed, that one can."

"I shall keep that in mind," I laughed lightly. "Mr. Black," I began, "I know this is going to be uncomfortable no matter how I approach the subject. Still, I wish to ask you without reservations, even if it seems too bold. What really happened to Miss Swan's family?"

Mr. Black sighed, looking at me and the now sleeping Isabella in my arms. "You have a right to know, I suppose. I cannot hold that against you, now that you have taken charge of her. You must have guessed by now, but she is not the cause for what happened to her parents, the Swan's, last night. You see…"

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Mr. Black, you have been a great help," I said honestly, noting the approaching form of Miss Young. Now understanding more of Isabella's situation than I thought I would possibly understand under such constricting time.<p>

"It has been my pleasure," Mr. Black assured me. "Please, take care of her and Miss Young."

"I will do my best," I promised one last time. "But now we best be on our way. I do not think it wise to keep her in this state for much longer than it is necessary."

"That is understood," he agreed, shaking my hand in parting. "Until we meet again, Master Whitlock."

"Until we meet again, Mr. Black," I bided in turn and watched him go until he was out of sight. "Ready Miss Young?"

"Yes, our coachman is waiting with our carriage, Mr. Whitlock," she informed me, motioning behind her where, sure enough, a coachman awaited with her belongings.

"Do you happen to know the way to Dr. Carlisle Cullen's residence?" I inquired of the coachman as soon as we were settled for the short road ahead.

"Aye, Sir," the coachman replied.

"Then set a steady pace to his residence," I ordered. "I have sent word to him in advance, he should be expecting us."

"I can take her if you wish," Miss Young offered.

"No, it is all right, thank you, I do not wish to disturb her. She should rest while she can, she has a long night of probing ahead of her, if I know Carlisle, and I do."

As the coach was set into motion, I stared at the sleeping form of Isabella Swan in my lap, thinking, '_What a beautiful mess I have gotten myself into.'_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__Two chapters in the span of a couple hours, not bad. Please review so I can give you the next chapter._


	6. Waking Sleeping Beauty

_**Previously:**_

_"Do you happen to know the way to Dr. Carlisle Cullen's residence?" I inquired of the coachman as soon as we were settled for the short road ahead._

_"Aye, Sir," the coachman replied._

_"Then set a steady pace to his residence," I ordered. "I have sent word to him in advance, he should be expecting us."_

_"I can take her if you wish," Miss Young offered._

_"No, it is all right, thank you, I do not wish to disturb her. She should rest while she can, she has a long night of probing ahead of her."_

_As the coach was set into motion, I stared at the sleeping form of Isabella Swan in my lap thinking, _'What a beautiful mess I have gotten myself into.'

* * *

><p><strong>Captured by the Code of Fear<strong>

**Waking Sleeping Beauty**

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

1871

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mr. Whitlock's POV<strong>_

The commotion caused by Isabella's arrival was something that never fully settled, not even to this day. I remember there was plenty of pacing done before and after everything was said and done. There were allot of tears shed and brushed away, arguments aplenty too.

All of us were being swept into a turmoil that we did not know how to react to. We just knew we were of one mind when tending to Isabella Swan. This unified agreement alone united us and kept us from saying, or doing anything that might jeopardize the tenuous progress we had all made into reconstructing Isabella's threadbare and fragile mind state.

However, before that, there was the unnerving coach ride to Doctor Carlisle Cullen's residence.

* * *

><p>Washington<p>

September of 1861

* * *

><p>I sat in a panic, listening to the grating and scraping of the carriage being drawn, as the reality of what I had just done settled about me. Meanwhile, the horses lead a fast tempo that disturbed the gravel under their steady hoofs.<p>

What had I done? My hands began to sweat profusely and thoughts of my lack of knowledge on how to take care of someone revolved around my spiraling thoughts. What had I gotten myself into? I could not do this! I was discouraged, suddenly, to say the least. What had I been thinking? I should have never agreed to this, I realized abruptly, I should have never–

Isabella Swan abruptly shifted in my arms, halting all my panicked thoughts, and held tightly onto my vest as she trembled in her sleep. I held her tightly to me, making a silent vow, and her little frame settled and accommodated to my own as she relaxed. Shacking my head, I tried to rid my mind of doubt. I needed to be strong for the sleeping child in my arms, if for no one else.

Stealing one more look at Isabella, who now had her head resting just bellow my heart, I smiled tenderly at her and looked outside the carriage window and watched the trees blur by. Thankful that Miss Young had remained silent, I took a moment to quiet my mind.

_Get a hold of yourself, Jasper,_ I told myself. _How hard can it be?_ I almost groaned at myself. I did not even know the first thing about taking care of myself! My mind was in turmoil again, when I was interrupted once again.

"Mr. Whitlock?" Miss Young called quietly.

"Miss Young?" I flinched at my unpleasant tone and amended. "My apologies, Miss Young."

"Not at all Mr. Whitlock," she dismissed kindly.

"Please, call me Jasper. There is no need for formalities."

Miss Young fixed me with level eyes before she smiled apologetically and spoke. "I am afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Whitlock," she informed me. "I am an engaged woman, after all, despite my being here." Her eyes shone brightly in the darkness with the happiness this statement brought to her.

"As you wish, Madam," I allowed. "I am afraid that I have little use for conforming to society, arrogant though that might sound. Sometimes I forget that, though I might have forsaken the mannerisms, others have not."

"Quite." Miss Young was agreeable and I concluded that I would benefit from her company. "I respect your views, Mr. Whitlock, my hope is that you will respect mine."

"Equality," I supplied with a sincere smile.

"If I might be so bold, Mr. Whitlock?" She was being careful now, tentative. Slightly tensed, I nodded, asking her to go on. "I do believe you need not worry yourself sick. I am of strong opinion that you will do just fine."

She sounded so sure, I could not help but placate her with a dubious smile. "This is where you and I differ, Miss Young," I told her honestly. "I can barely manage myself, how can I know the first thing about managing a child whose needs are greater than my own?"

"Love." I looked to her unblinking, uncomprehending. "That is all this child needs, love," she supplied, looking at Isabella, a tender smile on her lips.

"Certainly she needs more than that," I scoffed.

"The foundation is what matters most," she replied stubbornly.

"Really, Miss Young, I–"

"And would you just stop your fidgeting?" she snapped. I gaped at her, astounded. "Else, she will wake," she added a little quieter, looking abashed.

I smiled. "You know, Miss Young, I think you and I will get along just fine. Isabella will be just fine." My acknowledgement made her smile. Every single doubt I had had up until then remained but I felt a strong stubbornness settle over me, a sort of defiance. "With such a fearless woman on her side, how can she not be?"

"You will do, Mr. Whitlock, you will do." I had no idea I had been put under a test. All I could say is, I am glad I passed.

"Love, huh?"

The carriage was quite for a long while after that, allowing me to burry myself in my thoughts once again. This time my thoughts were not as dark, but I still had my reservations. Time would tell, I resolved. Deciding to let go and just do was such a relief that when the coachman announced we had arrived I was slightly startled.

"Jasper, we have been expecting you," Mrs. Cullen, greeted, sounding relieved. I exited the carriage and immediately Esme took Isabella into her arms, fussing over her like only she could. Isabella did not stir. "Please, both of you, take Mr. Whitlock's luggage inside and prepare a warm bath," Esme instructed and two of her housemaids obliged, eager to please.

"Esme, Carlisle," I greeted with a smile. "Isabella Swan is in need of your medical assistance."

"I will do whatever I can to help," Carlisle promised. And I knew I could trust his word. Carlisle has been a trusted friend of mine for a long time now. I had met him overseas, on one of my voyages with my father to London and kept in contact, forgoing the distance. We had taken quite a liking to each other, in spite of our ten-year age difference.

However, our friendship strengthened furthermore when he sent word that he would be studying medicine in Texas, two years after our first meet. I was joyous at the news and, more than obligingly, opened our home to him, showed him around, and introduced him to Esme. Esme is my uncle's, on my mother's side, wife's daughter, in other words, she is family, though not by blood.

"Jasper, she's lovely," Esme said in wonder and I knew she all ready loved Isabella. I smiled at her. "How could anyone have the heart to hurt an innocent child?"

"Jasper, what took you so long?" Carlisle inquired, looking between Isabella and his wife, concern creasing his brow. "From the nature of your message I was expecting you much earlier." I could see he was all ready cataloging her with expert eyes and he was not happy with what he found.

"I suppose that would be my doing," Miss Young interjected as I helped her exit the carriage. "Thank you," she said to me. I nodded.

"Carlisle, Esme, this is Miss Emily Young, Miss Young, Doctor and Mrs. Cullen," I introduced. "Miss Young has been gracious enough to offer her services of governess for our young Isabella Swan."

"Shame the circumstances under which we are meeting, but it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Young, nonetheless," Carlisle greeted, taking Miss Young's offered hand and placing a kiss on the back of her palm. Always the diplomat. Esme showed her a winning smile and a kiss to each cheek. "How very gracious of you."

"Not at all, Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, the pleasure is all mine. Besides, I have been Miss Swan's governess since the moment she was born. I just could not possibly bare to part with her, she is such a sweet child." Once again, I saw that telltale shine, her love and attachment for Isabella evident in her gaze.

"How old is she?" Carlisle asked of Miss Young.

"She will be eight this month, the thirteenth," Miss Young supplied speedily. How come I had not thought of asking that? It would be less than a week from today! There was much I did not know and I had not thought to ask on our ride here. I would amend that soon enough, I vowed.

"Does she have any allergies?" he asked her next. "To any medicine, food, or anything at all?"

"None that I know of," Miss Young told him uncertainly. Carlisle nodded, pondering. "She has never been a sickly child."

"That is good, good news…"

"That would be all, Sir?" the coachman inquired, bringing my attention to him before I could ask some questions of my own. "Or would you have me do anything else?"

"No. Thank you for your service, but that will be all for tonight," I told the man. "Good night, Sir," I bided. After biding his own farewell in return, I paid the coachman and sent him on his way.

"Mrs. Cullen, Madam?" I heard the housekeeper, quietly speaking to Esme. "The bath is set, Madam."

"Thank you, Wodell, I will be in shortly. Make sure to keep it warm."

"As you wish, Madam." With that, the housekeeper knew she had been dismissed and curtsying made her exit.

Esme turned to me then. "I shall go attempt and wake this sleeping beauty and get her all cleaned up. Jasper, I shall call upon you if I need your assistance at any given moment."

"That would be great, Esme, thank you."

"Carlisle, dearest, Isabella and I shall wait for you inside, while I get her all cleaned up. Once she is all cleaned up, you can probe her all you want, and not a moment before."

"Of course, dearest wife, you have my word on it," Carlisle nodded. "Your wish is my command."

"It very well is," she whispered to him, teasing, and with a gentle pad to his cheek and a peck to the lips, she followed after her housekeeper. Carlisle and I could not help but laughed at Esme's frolics and watched her go.

"She has got you all railed in, Carlisle," I observed teasingly. Carlisle nodded solemnly with equal humor.

"I like her," Miss Young simply stated, bringing our attention to her. "She has a commanding presence," she explained. Carlisle and I, once again, could not control our chuckling, _if only she knew how much of a commanding presence it was_,running through our heads.

"Please, let us take this inside," Carlisle requested, now that Esme disappeared inside with Isabella and we were outside, standing in the dark. "I have much to ask. Now, if the both will be so kind as to follow me, I would like to welcome you into my home." With that, we followed Carlisle inside to wait for Esme and Isabella.

* * *

><p>Once inside, Carlisle requested one of the housemaids show Miss Young to a room, since we were to be his guests for the night. I was grateful for this. I had not paid it any thought until Carlisle had made the decision for me. Which made me think, I should have probably asked him prior to arrival for the use of his gracious accommodations.<p>

No matter, Carlisle dismissed my apologies in the matter soon after I had expressed them. I was family, was all he would say in the matter, there was no need for prior arrangements as far as he was concerned, and he was speaking for both, Esme and himself. I was beyond grateful.

"Carlisle, may I borrow your footman?" I asked Carlisle. "I would like to send word with him. I need to let my household know not to expect me tonight and send instructions for Isabella and Miss Young's arrangements."

"Most certainly, Jasper," he assured me. "That would be the thoughtful and polite thing to do. Let me call John for you so that he might fetch you something to write with and be on his way."

"Thank you."

* * *

><p><strong><em>OoO<em>**

* * *

><p>"Our family is growing," Carlisle told me once the arrangements had been done, John had departed with my letter, and Miss Young had been taken to her room for the night, after much debate. She had wanted to remain in the room and witness that Isabella would be taken proper care of. A tad insulted, Carlisle fixed her with his steely, steady gaze, telling him he was the best in his profession and he should be thought as such, not insulted in his own home.<p>

I had remained quiet through the entire argument, not wanting to have Carlisle's wrath directed at me as well. I had seen the compassionate and calm Doctor Carlisle Cullen angry less than a handful of times in the past –thankfully, never _at_me– and it had never been a pretty sight to behold, let me tell you.

Finding this out for herself, Miss Young relented and her argument fell to deaf ears as she allowed herself to be shown to her room, most obliged. However, the frightening thing about an angry Carlisle is the aftermath. He would be as calm as a clam right after, as long as he got an apology, as if nothing had ever happened. Really, he made it seem like you had seen some sort of dark illusion that never took place in the first place. Frightening, I tell you, bloodcurdling even.

"Yes, it is," I assented, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders once again. Thankful that Miss Young was not in the room, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. Feeling like my feet had been made of lead and my body was momentarily boneless, I sank with a loud thud onto Carlisle's furniture.

Carlisle was instantly at my side, checking my vitals. "Jasper, are you feeling ill?"

"Carlisle, I do not know what I am doing," I confess, choking on my words, head in my palms, and trembling. "I do not know how to care for a _child_! I cannot even take care of myself! How can I do this?" It was a repetition of my earlier outburst, I knew, but somehow, telling Carlisle made it real and easier to deal with.

"Oh Jasper…" He put an arm around me, hugging me to him and comforting me. I allowed this, knowing that there was no shame in this and that if there was anyone that I could throw my inhibitions away in front of and would not bring up my moment of weakness later on in life, it would be Carlisle. He knew me better than anyone. "I know you are young and you have been through so much… but I have faith in you. You can do this, you have been catering for your sister for as long as I can remember so you can do this."

"That is different Carlisle," I argued, looking into his eyes and allowing him to see the agony in them. Carlisle stared into them without flinching, there was nothing he had not seen before there. The mention of my sister always brought this singular look into my eyes, it was like a void was suddenly consuming me from the inside out and I had no control. "It is different and you know it!" I was screaming now and I did not care who heard, it was shameful. Still, Carlisle held on to me. "Just do not! Do not! I beg of you…"

"Jasper, you listen to me now and you listen to me good," he ordered, holding onto both of my shoulders with great pressure, it was almost painful and I welcomed it, it brought me to the here and now. "You are not alone in this–"

"How can you say that Carlisle," I hissed at him. He knew, he knew that I was alone now. Except for my sister I had no one else. My father was gone and my mother… I swallowed hard through the pain and the acid raising through my throat. My mother, she could not bare the loss and followed soon after, her body and mind too deteriorated to keep her with me, to keep her with us.

"How can you insult me?" Carlisle argued, his own voice rising. I flinched away, astounded. "How can you insult Esme, my wife?" What was he talking about, I could not comprehend. I tried closing my ears to that which I did not understand, pressing my palms over them but Carlisle made sure I heard. "Stop acting like a child yourself and open your eyes, Jasper! We are your family, Esme and I. Do you understand?" He was talking more calmly now, whispering really, and I looked to him astounded. He looked on the verge of crying, so pained. "It hurts that you do not see us as such… that you dismiss the thought of us as a family, apart from you."

"Carlisle, God, no!" What had I done? My head sank deeper into my palms. "I am sorry… so sorry…"

"Why did you come here then?" Carlisle challenged. "If you were so alone in the world, with no family to speak of?" He stared at me intently as my head lifted from my palms and my eyes met his, dancing between them, searching.

"To be with… to be with my family… Esme… _you_."

"There is your answer, young Master Whitlock," I groaned at his formality and Carlisle chuckled. I was emotionally exhausted. "We are here to see you through this and support you."

"I will adopt her," I told him. "I need to contact Mr. Scott." Carlisle nodded and then hesitated. "What is it Carlisle? Spit it out, we have been screaming at each other, now is not the time to get all shy on me, now, is it?" Carlisle smiled morosely at me, shaking his head.

"What is best, I think, is for you to simply take custody of her, for the time being," he began slowly, brow furrowed in thought. "And wait until she is older to ask her weather or not she would like to be adopted and take the Whitlock name." I nodded. That made sense.

"Custody, understood," I sighed. "I shall send word to Mr. Scott first thing in the morning. That would be best."

"Yes, it would."

"Thank you Carlisle."

"This is what family is for." We smiled at each other and then looked away, seriously abashed. We were _men_ for heaven's sake! We did not do emotionally distraught. However, I kept smiling like the fool I was, feeling better and sure of myself. This would work out, I thought, and for the first time I believed it.

"Gentlemen," Esme's voice interrupted my happy musings and my head snapped to her almost painfully. I robbed my neck absentmindedly as Esme beamed at the two of us. "It is my great pleasure to introduce you to the new and improved Miss. Isabella Swan!" That was when she directed our attention to her skirts.

I frowned lightly and then smiled when I caught sight of pudgy little fingers holding on tight to Esme's skirts. I chuckled silently at her bashfulness, understanding that she was hiding behind Esme.

"Hello sweetheart," I began quietly, trying not to frighten her. "Why not come out from behind there, so that I can see how pretty you look?" Now her other hand joined the first and holding on to Esme's skirts, she peeked out from behind them with curious, cautious, innocent brown eyes. As soon as her eyes saw me, a jolt seemed to shake her little body and she looked to Esme, as if asking for permission.

"Go on, lovely girl," Esme encouraged her, kneeling before her and brushing aside her hair lovingly. Isabella did not have to be told twice. Slightly hesitant, she hugged Esme, nodded, and looking resolute, made her little feet, one after the other, make their way toward me.

"Isabella," I greeted with a smile as soon as she was standing but one foot away from me. Her head went up, startled by the sound of my voice and her body quivered, tears springing up in her eyes. Feeling apprehensive, I shuffled on my feet and watched her watch me. Scrutinize me really. "Everything will be okay, I promise." I offered a tentative smile and that was it. She smiled shyly, whipping her tears away with the back of her hand, and hiding behind her curls, she hugged herself to my leg, much like she did upon our first meet.

I looked toward Esme and Carlisle in turn, asking for some kind of guidance, when I noticed them together, beaming at me and nodding with approval.

"Go on," Carlisle urged, "get acquainted with your new family member."

_Okay_, I thought and scooped Isabella up into my arms, if after a bit of wrestling her into relenting her hold on my legs. Once she saw and understood I only wanted to have her in my arms, she was a willing participant and held on tightly to my neck.

"Isabella, my name is–" I stopped midsentence as Isabella shook her head vehemently at me. I frowned and then remembered a little trivia about this little, lovely lady. "Bella," I tried and beamed when I saw her smile at me and nod. "Bella, my name is Jasper and that over there is Carlisle" –Carlisle smiled at her and she smiled shyly at him in return– "he is your doctor. He will make sure that are not hurt. Will you let him have a look at you?" Isabella put her pudgy little side on my cheek and looked into my eyes then, as if asking me something. Somehow, I understood the meaning behind her worried, dark eyes. "I trust him," I assured her. She nodded and I smiled to Carlisle, returning his smile.

"Welcome to our family, lovely Bella," the three of us welcomed together, beaming at a blushing, bashful Bella. And I knew, without a doubt that she would fit into our little family everything else, we would just have to take it in stride.


End file.
